


Prophecy

by retroateez



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Blood and Violence, F/M, King Hongjoong, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24689968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retroateez/pseuds/retroateez
Summary: Waking up on the shore of a foreign kingdom spells nothing but danger.You've got a whole lot of trouble coming your way.
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Reader
Comments: 18
Kudos: 43





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> i've never written anything like this before, nor have i published anything on this site before and i'm very overwhelmed and confused !!  
> however i'm writing an ateez medieval au to cater to my deepest desire of being a bard so here we go  
> uhhhh constructive criticism is welcome but please be kind, i'm a fragile soul

"Mama!" the young boy cried. "Tell me the story before I go to sleep!"

"You've heard this story countless times, ho-"

"Please mama!" he begged the sighing woman, kneeling on his bed with his hands clasped together, almost like he's praying.

She gave in easily, unable to resist the charms of her darling son. "Okay, my little cub," she smiles fondly, "just this once".

Grinning from ear to ear, the boy clambered back under his blanket; a bear pelt his father had brought back from hunting one afternoon, claiming it would make a splendid rug, or cloak. Instead, his mother insisted it would make a perfect blanket for their unborn child, and what she says, goes.

She perched at her son's feet, knowing now he was much too excited to even think about sleeping.

"Written in the stars," she begun, "is a prophecy. A fulfillment written out by the gods. A legend that spans back in time further than you, me, your father, even your grumpy old grandfather."

The boy giggled. Grandfather is old, he thinks. 

"The prophecy states that every century, an evil and unstoppable force will come to destroy our very kingdom, uprooting civilisation here as we know it. Nobody knows how, or why they came to be, but the gods work in mysterious ways my little cub, do you understand?"

He nodded erratically, like he was trying to shake his brain inside his tiny skull. He hangs onto his mother's every word, as if she's the greatest storyteller the earth had ever seen. She was, to him at least.

"Around 8 decades ago, a mysterious man clashed with the kingdom. Not a soul knew who he was, or where he came from, he just appeared, almost like he had sprung from the sea." She continued her tale, aware of two, alert eyes watching her, unblinking.

"The tales describe him as a giant, powerful creature. On the surface, he appears nothing more than an enlarged human being, but laying your eyes upon him brought all layers of Hell into your stomach, brewing up like a stew, bubbling and steaming and burning hot."

"I like stew." the boy said. She carried on, ignoring his remark.

"This was no ordinary man. This was no mere mortal, but an agent crafted by the divine to wreak havoc on us-"

"But why, mama?" The young one suddenly queried. "Did we do something wrong?"

The mother leaned forward and pressed her lips on his forehead. "We don't know why, my precious cub. The gods have many, confusing things laid out for us. Our only job is to accept them, and deal with them as best we can."

"We shouldn't question the gods, right mama?" The small boy repeated the phrase his mother had told him multiple times.

"That's exactly correct, my young prince. If we question the divine authority, much, much worse could come our way." She gently tucked her son into bed, wrapping the bear blanket around him like he was the most expensive vase in an art gallery to protect him from any thieving hands. She kissed him once more, on the top of his head this time.

"Sleep well, precious one" She turned to leave the room, halting at the threshold at the quiet voice beckoning her back.

"Mama?" He called.

"Yes, Hongjoong?"

"When that evil man comes back, I'll protect you."

"I know you will, my sweet"

She blew out the candle by the door, leaving her darling son to sleep soundly as he dreams of the wildest fantasies a 6 year old prince could conjure. A faint smile rested upon her lips. He's going to make a wonderful king one day.


	2. two

Being a thief was all fun and games, until you went and got yourself caught.

You got swept away in the moment, you supposed. Your practised hand reaching out to expertly snatch a fresh loaf of bread from the market stall, just like you had done plenty of times before. This time it was different, the merchant must've smelled something suspicious as he kept his wary eyes fixed on you. Something told you he wasn't a stranger to thieves. Still, you smiled sweetly at him, a trick you had learned from the older children in the village. He definitely knew you were up to something, bellowing out the second your hand darted out towards the edge of the table. 

"Thief!" He screams, "nasty fucking creature!"

You had barely grasped your meal, before panic rattled through your bones and screeched at your brain to run. His outburst had attracted the attention of some nearby guards, all of which were slacking on the job; nothing interesting ever happens on market days. Of course it doesn't, you never get caught. Until now.

Adrenaline forces your entire body to sprint through the confused muddle of townfolk, grumbling as you bat them aside with your narrow shoulders. The slapping of your worn, leather shoes against the uneven cobblestoned paths keeps in perfect time with your rapid heartbeat, like some kind of sick, organ orchestra. A chorus made entirely of limbs and entrails, blood rushing and pumping to the beat. Clutching the loaf of bread, you think that maybe it wasn't worth your life for. Although at this point you'll either starve to death on the streets, or starve to death in prison. Dignity dictates you'd rather take the streets.

You swerve your small frame around the corner of a bookshop, deciding to take the guards chasing you through the dingy alleyways you knew like the back of your hand. You figured you could lose them in the maze of confusing back-alleys; the guards looked as if they could only navigate themselves to the nearest tavern. You dive left and right, yet no matter how many turns you take, the guards never lose sight of you. The clanking of their armour reverborates dangerously behind you, reminding you that these guys are powerful, In fact, they'll probably kill you the second they lay their grubby paws on you. They'll enjoy it too.

Sweat gathers on your forehead, almost like it was mocking you for failing at something you were usually so good at. You couldn't tell if you were sweating from sprinting or if it was the panic crashing in waves underneath your skin. It was probably a mix of both.

Why did it go wrong? You ask yourself. What happened?

The guards were fast gaining on you now. You could feel the rush of air pass by your head as their hands frantically shot out to grab you. Luckily, you were just a split second ahead of them. Call it destiny; you were not getting caught today. You simply wouldn't allow it. 

Turning once more, you find yourself at a small, secluded beach. More like a sandy bay, without a short pier or any remnence of a harbour, except for a lonely rowboat half docked on the shore. Despite your confusion, you hurtle towards the boat, praying to all and any deitys listening that you get out of this alive. Luck seems to be on your side today; inside the boat are two oars, laying patiently, waiting just for you.

You don't even have time to think or process your next actions as you thrust the oars into the sand, pushing desperately. Strength was not something you had ever been particularly gifted with, yet you felt as if Hercules himself had granted you his muscles. Perhaps later you would find a Hydra or two to slay. The tiny rowboat has no arguments, allowing you to push it away from the safety of land and start the endless drift into the sea. You were a team now, you and the little boat. A lonely pair who only had each other. You both gave the other purpose; the boat had escentially saved your life, and a boat is almost completely useless unless it has somebody to captain it. Just a lifeless hunk of nailed wood, a shell with so much potential.

The guards stand seething at the shoreline, swearing at you as you only glide further and further away from their steely glares. You watch neutrally, leaving the kingdom in which you grew up should hurt more, but it doesn't. Not at all. Being a thief wasn't much of a life anyway. And it wasn't like you had an adoring family, waiting eagerly for your return. You wouldn't be missed. You wondered why you hadn't bothered leaving before, maybe the life you'd grown accustomed to was just something you didn't feel like changing. Although now, you didn't have a choice.

Pulling the battered loaf of bread out of your pocket, you take a sizeable bite. You should probably ration it, seeing as you likely won't be seeing land for a long while, but you don't really care. You turn away from your hometown, gazing at the vast expanse of ocean before you. Taking another bite of bread, you realise again that maybe a single loaf wasn't worth the trouble; you should've grabbed another.

_An invisble cog assumes it's place, the first one required to complete the chain. It spins slowly; this cog is new. It's different. Untouched. It's abrupt creation a shock to itself. A lonely cog, waiting eagerly to be joined and finally have a purpose. But of course, the first cog in the sequence is the most important. Without the beginning, there cannot be an end. ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> constructive criticism always welcome !!  
> pls be nice tho xoxo


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy! <3

You weren't entirely sure how long you'd been bobbing the waves of the isolated seas, but judging by how darkness was looming once again, you guessed a couple of days. You thanked the stars above that the waters had taken pity on you and remained calm, but something deep in your gut told you that it wouldn't last for much longer.

The night was becoming bitter too, even in these summer months. The thin, raggedy clothes you wore (stolen, obviously) didn't offer much in terms of warmth or comfort.

You sigh deeply, throwing your head back to look up at the blanket of stars above you. You'd never taken much notice of how truly beautiful the night sky was, being full of fear on the streets as you attempted to sleep, but still on high alert for trouble. At least now the only thing you could do was gaze up at the natural twinkling lights. You wondered what lurked up there, high above the clouds. You knew that the gods weren't physical beings, but you often imagined them up there, throwing lavish, divine parties that you and the other thief children could only dream of. 

The stars glittered softly overhead, almost as if they were guiding you in a specific direction. In fact, it truly did seem like they were encouraging you to follow them. Intrigued, you pick up the oars and push the boat forwards, not taking your eyes off the string of natural lights above you. You could swear they had merged into a pattern, into an arrow specifically. You shook it off, blaming your blurred vision on the combination of exhaustion, hunger and possibly hypothermia.

You'd been following the stars for what seemed like an eternity, the slight burn in your arms becoming too painful to endure for much longer. Your neck cracks loudly as you finally rip your gaze away from the sky to survey the ocean around you. You had failed to notice how choppy and rough the water had gotten as you were rowing, and it was splashing violently against the sides of the poor little rowboat. Spraying up into your face, it begins to slowly soak your clothes and you find yourself regretting the whole ordeal. A single loaf of bread was not worth dying at sea. You had never expected much to come of your life as a thief, but dying at sea was the worst. If you'd died on the streets, at least somebody would have found you. Unfortunately the deep waves were not as sympathetic.

As if the waves could sense your growing panic, they hurled themselves at you, rocking the strong little rowboat and throwing you about inside it. You'd become quite attached to the little boat, even finding yourself making conversation as you floated along. Of course, you knew it was an inanimate object, but deep down you knew this ordinary boat was the catalyst of your destiny. In truth, you had no idea that the tiny bay was there in the first place, let alone an abandoned, yet perfectly maintained boat was waiting patiently, just for you.

The rolling waves slap hard against the wood of the boat, ricocheting so loudly through your eardrums you almost miss the crack of thunder engulfing the heavens above your head.

"Shit" you curse to yourself. Of course you had to go and jinx your own luck.

You quickly pull the oars back by your feet, knowing that they'll probably snap from the force of the sea and that's really something you could do without. Gripping the edges of the boat, you cling on for dear life as the storm begins to truly rage. You clamp your small, cold hands onto the boat as hard as you possibly can, your knuckles getting paler as they only grow colder. The peaks of the brutal waves lick against your fingers, inviting you to join them in the expanse of ocean. You were frozen, from both fear and the bitterness of the storm.

A shadow to your left, cast by the moonlight, catches your attention, and you wished you hadn't noticed. A giant wave, larger than you could possibly comprehend, was barreling towards you at lightening speed.

"Oh _fuck!_ " you panic. " _Fuckfuckfuck-_ "

It smashes into you, knocking the wind out of your lungs and enveloping your entire body in water. Miraculously, you manage to keep hold of the boat. Desperate to have something to protect yourself, there's no chance in hell you're letting go so easily. As you resurface, you tug the rowboat as close to your body as you can get it, using it to pop your head above water. Matted and dripping wet, your hair clings to your crimson cheeks and bruised neck like seaweed, equally dangerous too; as seaweed can tangle your legs and plunge you into the deep, the tangled heap on your head almost fully blocks your vision, meaning that you don't see the second, looming wave. 

This wave, greater in height and packing more punch than the first, batters you once more into the saltwater. Apathetic, it throws you around in the water like a dog with a bone, thrashing you from side to side with absolute ease. Even with your eyes screwed shut, momentary flashes of light and pounding in your ears tell you the storm in the sky is not letting up a single bit. You flail your arms about in front of you, trying desparately to locate the rowboat. You'd come to rely on the little boat so much, at this point it was your only friend, your only hope of survival. And you knew how sad it was that your only friend was literally a bunch of nailed wood, but with that boat you could go anywhere. Without it you could go only down, down to the bottom of the ocean floor and be forgotten about forever. 

Spluttering, you surface again, frantically searching for your wooden companion. The more and more you panic, the blurrier your vision becomes. Whether it be due to tears or the merciless elements currently ruining your life, you have no idea. With a gasp, you spot the boat floating, eerily calm, a few feet ahead of you. You force your exhausted, aching body to swim towards it, not getting very far before the situation gets so, so much worse.

It begins with the rowboat bobbing along peacefully, and then you realise _you_ are not getting closer to the _boat_ ; the _boat_ is getting closer to _you_. Your eyes widen in shock and you whip around to escape your only chance of hope confined in a small wooden frame from hitting you in the face.

Moments later, a blunt force cracks into the back of your skull, sending you under the waves for a final time. You knew immediately that the boat had rammed against your head, and yet, even as your vision was blackening you were losing consciousness, the fact the boat had betrayed you, almost tore your heart in two.

_Destiny has no mercy. Destiny takes no pity on the suffering. The sufferers suffer, and the privileged revel in their priviliege. People are born, they live, then they die. For some, that is their destiny. For others, their destiny is greater. For few, their destiny is written in the stars. For One, their destiny is hand-crafted by the divine themselves. Much like destiny, the divine have no mercy. As the privileged, they can only revel in the suffering they cause to the sufferers. Some may say that is the destiny of the privileged. But for One, whose destiny is made by the privileged, will both suffer, and cause suffering._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always constructive criticism is appreciated <3


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> double update this week bc it's too hot to do anything but write,,, hope u enjoy <3

He strolled through the woods calmly, as he did almost everyday. The route was so familiar to him that he could walk the grassy path with his eyes closed. Not that he would do that, of course. It would be foolish, leaving oneself so vulnerable in the open. The tide splashed angrily against the sand a handful of metres away. He sighed deeply; the recent storm had wrecked the forest surrounding his secluded home. He just hoped the natural resources he needed hadn't been destroyed by those dangerous winds. Above him, the usual canopy of green had almost all disappeared, torn away by the harsh hands of the rain. He wrinkled his nose at being so exposed to the sunlight.

Eventually he passed through the alley of trees and stepped out onto the grey beach. Despite the sun, the sand was not glittering as it usually would. The waters were murky, disgruntled from the rage of the storm. His walnut coloured eyes sparkled softly as he surveyed his surroundings. His hair, soft and daffodil hued sat both messily and neat in gentle curls. It parted in the middle, allowing his piercing eyes to glare at people he didn't like.

Which was almost everybody.

Living alone on the outskirts of the most powerful kingdom sounded better than it actually was. He preferred to be alone, that way he could do his work without being distracted. But being a mage was exhausting work, and having someone cook his dinner when he was exhausted would be quite nice. Nevertheless, the magician was disliked purely out of fear. He was powerful. All mages were.

Living inside the kingdom was too risky for both himself and the citizens of the kingdom, so the king gave him a sizable amount of land roughly a mile away from the kingdom walls. He couldn't complain really. The mage's land consisted of mainly woods, which backed out directly onto the coastline. Luckily for him it was dense in herbs and creatures he needed for his work, so it worked out well for him in the end.

That's exactly what he was doing this gloomy morning. The sun was there, but barely. Hidden behind the clouds, clearly the sun was in no mood today. The ocean wasn't particularly happy either, like it had been drinking ale for 3 days straight and was currently trying not to explode from the hangover.

The mage had no idea what that was like.

Squinting at the sand, he began his search. He hated this part of being a mage. Skills in magic often required a basic knowledge in alchemy, and collecting the ingredients was the bane of his existence. Unfortunately for him, the only local source of this particular substance could only be harvested from sand mandrakes. The most annoying little bastards he had ever had the displeasure of coming across. Typical mandrakes were easy enough to come across, as if you accidentally stepped on one during a stroll in the woods they would scream bloody murder and possibly attempt to poison you.

But these ones would bury themselves underneath the sand and wait to attack you on purpose. He hated them.

No, he loathed them.

However, he really did need that specific ingredient, so he took a deep breath, pushed his golden hair back and prepared himself.

Yet, what he discovered on the beach was not what he needed, nor what he had expected.

A body lay, face-down, flat out just beyond the reach of the tide. He could tell by the darkness of the clothing that the person was soaked to the bone. Whether or not they were alive was a different matter, though. He sighed and approached the body cautiously, in case it was some kind of dead-alive, drowned hybrid-thing that would try and bite him when he got a little too close.

"Hello?" he called out quietly. "Are you dead?"

No answer.

"Excuse me," he tried again. "are you sunbathing?"

He rolled the body over so they were laying on their back. The mage inspected the body with his eyes and internally groaned.

_Great. A human. A woman too._

He had nothing against women, but it meant that he couldn't just leave her on the beach. It he had found a random man, he probably would have done exactly that. But he was a polite mage, he had manners.

He also didn't want to be charged with murder if the guard patrol found a dead woman close to the mage's home. Most authorities would use anything to throw a magic wielder in jail. The only reason he was able to walk free was that he helped the king at his request. The king had a fascination for magic. The mage felt rather uncomfortable knowing that was the only reason he was alive, but he supposed it was better than being dead.

With a groan, he scooped the woman up into his arms.

"Talk about dead weight, holy shit"

He huffed as he began his hike back to his shack. As he walked, he glanced down at the unconscious figure he was carrying.

Her hair was wild, as if she had been dragged through an entire thicket of bushes a minimum of one hundred times. Her skin was covered in dirt, dried sand and honestly only god knows what else. He could feel her breathing shallowly, so that was a relief. At least now he wouldn't be responsible for her death.

Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks and cursed.

"Fuck sake!" He shot an angry glare at the woman he was carrying. "I didn't get the fucking mandrakes!"

\-----

A warm, soothing scent washes over you, and you crack your eyes open the tiniest bit. First, you notice the pounding inside your skull, reasonating like a drum in a huge, empty hall, the bass bouncing off every wall. It's a dull ache but it's _there_. Your sight is still blurred from sleep, but above you, you can make out something vaguely wooden. Most likely a roof.

A roof?

You're _inside?_

Forgetting all your pain, you bolt upright, panicked.

"Where am I?" you blurt aloud.

Surveying your surroundings, you realise you're most definitely inside somebodies house. Despite having never been here before, it has a very welcoming feel to it. A lit brick hearth was directly opposite you, exuding a comfortable warmth as the wood inside it crackled. The room you were in was fairly large, with a single window and arrays of plants adorning every surface and crawling up the walls. The room smelt earthy and fresh too, like the roots of the flowers and emerald leaves made up part of the structure of the house itself. You wouldn't be surprised if it did.

Slowly, you pull yourself up off the bed and pace over to the window. The round, oak table just below it is cluttered with petals, pencils and other various objects you couldn't even attempt to identify. Multiple pots line the windowsill, each one filled with flowers the shade of bumblebees. You run your fingers gently over the honey coloured petals, gasping quietly when they radiate a yellow shine onto your hand.

"Ficaria verna," a deep voice startles you from the threshold of the door. "pretty, aren't they?"

You nod silently in response, staring at him blankly.

"Celandine?" He tries again, approaching both you and the flowers carefully. Again, you have zero idea what he was talking about.

With a sharp sigh, he plucks one of the flowers from the cluster of plants and holds it gently underneath your chin. You couldn't see it, but you assume the skin grazing the little yellow bud was glowing gold.

"Buttercups," he murmurs. "if they shine under your chin, that means you like butter"

You nod meekly, deciding that pretending to know what this mysterious man is talking about is the best course of action. Instead, your confused brain has other plans.

"Who are you?" you burst out. "Why am I here?"

His hand falls from your face, discarding the buttercup onto the table and turning back to you with a sour scowl.

"Is that any way to address somebody who just saved your life?" He snaps at you.

"I-" He moves closer to you, forcing you to back up.

"Is that any way to address somebody who welcomed you into his house? Completely ruining his plans for the day?"

You stand frozen, back pressed against the tough wood of the wall. Why was he suddenly being cold towards you? Naturally you wouldn't expect a stranger to be warm and welcoming off the bat but inititally he had seemed quite friendly. Did you annoy him by not knowing about plants? You didn't want to be rude but the average human being didn't possess an extensive knowledge about multitudes of vegetation.

"Human being?" he mused playfully. Your eyebrows shoot up in shock.

Did you say that out loud?

He stares down at you for what seems like millenia, his sandy hair falling forward the slightest bit as he towers over you. His silence is daunting and honestly, you have no idea what to do except just stand there. After all, you're a guest in this unknown person's house. And he did save your life, so the least you could do was just be quiet.

He reclines abruptly and sticks his large, calloused hand out to shake your own. You reciprocate the greeting shyly, your much smaller hand completely engulfed in his. Much like how the ocean totally swallowed you up.

"I'm Yeosang," he smiles. "I found you knocked out on the beach this morning. Any idea how you got there?"

"The storm," you explain. "I got caught in the middle of it and it threw me about like a ragdoll"

Yeosang steps away from you, leaving his bedroom into the main room of his shack and prompting you to follow him with a nod of his head.

The central room to the house is breathtakingly beautiful. Circular in shape, a collosal maple trunk stands proudly in the center, supporting the rest of the building like a pillar. Surrounded by open space and natural light, you have a hard time believing that you hadn't stepped into another dimension. The body of the trunk run straight up through the middle of the room, leaving you wondering where both the base and peak of the maple actually were.

The sunlight filters through the windows and also beams down between the branches of viridescent leaves above you, making you feel like you were in a fairytale. You half expected a fawn to come barrelling through, tripping over his spindly little legs but still determined nonetheless.

Still stood in the threshold of the bedroom, you stand statue-like, gaping at the view.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Yeosang smirks, stirring a pot which sat above a crimson brick stove over to your right. "It requires a lot of maintanance but it's worth it."

"It's so beautiful... It doesn't look real!"

Yeosang ladles the liquid from the pot into some bowls, and walks to the opposite side of the giant maple trunk. He places your bowl on a small, rickety looking table then he sits down in an equally rickety looking chair on the other side.

You politely sit down and eye your meal. You don't want to be picky but... it doesn't look very appetising.

"What-what exactly is this?" You ask in the kindest way possible.

He raises an eyebrow at you from across the table, and you pray to the heavens you haven't royally pissed him off. In a panic, you attempt to change the subject.

"How do you keep everything from burning in here? It's literally all wood! And there's no way it can be so naturally beaut-"

"Magic." Yeosang cuts you off, his voice cold and hard. "I didn't have to bring you back here, you know. I could've left you on the beach to die. I know the mandrakes get hungry quickly this time of year"

You gulp, his gaze on you now dark and polar opposite to the welcoming demeanor he had before.

"But I helped you anyway," he continued. "Better I found you anyway than the Ateez guards, they probably would've killed you right there on the sand."

Is he really this mad over a bowl of (what looks like) soup?

"I'm sorry!" You argue back. You don't really care who this Yeosang thinks he is right now. You have no home, literally nothing to your name and he's being a dick for no reason? This isn't fair.

"I'm sorry for inconvieniencing you by washing up on that beach. Maybe you should've let me die! I don't know who you are or why you're getting angry with me so if you're quite finished, I'd like to leave!"

You glare at each other angrily over the table. The both of you stay silent for a few moments, until Yeosang suddenly starts spooning soup into his mouth. You look at him incredulously; what is with this guys mood?

Deciding to play along and also knowing that if you did leave, you'd have nowhere to go, you also begin sipping the bubbling soup. You discover it is actually very delicious, and now you feel like a fool for insulting both the food and the confusing blonde man who you technically were indebted to now.

"I don't expect anything in return for saving your life," he says matter-of-factly. "I can see that you possess nothing of value to me on your person. However I may be willing to help you out, on a few conditions"

He lays his spoon back in the bowl and folds his arms, leaning back into his chair and waiting for your reply.

"And what are these conditions?" You ask, continuing to eat.

"You help me out when I need it, and I'll let you stay with me. Because you evidently are not from around here, and frankly, going up to the Ateez territory looking like _that_ wouldn't do you any favours"

Offended, you look down at your mud-caked clothes, stiff from being soaked and drying awkwardly on your body. You realise too your hair is a complete wreck, sticking up in so many directions a compass would have a hard time figuring it out. It's matted and clumped together and you already know it'll be painful to fix. So maybe Yeosang does have a point, albeit a rude one.

You ponder his invitation, glancing around his stunning, fairy-tale home. Really, you have no reason to decline; you have no home, no job, and it could be an opportunity for you to start fresh, forget about your past as a lonely thief on the streets. 

"Okay," you nod, peering straight into Yeosang's icy blue eyes. "I do what you ask, you let me stay."

He nods back, satisfied. 

You finish the remainder of your soup ( _pottage_ , he tells you) and you turn to him as he washes the bowls.

"What now?"

He turns to you with a grin, one you haven't seen from him yet and it fills you with dread immediately.

"Fancy a trip to the beach?"

He was _definitely_ going to kill you.


	5. five

A month had passed since Yeosang took you under his wing, and he (thankfully) hadn't decided to kill you. 

Although the trip to harvest the sand mandrakes often made you think otherwise.

Despite that, Yeosang had been patient with you as you grew accustomed to his lifestyle. Oddly, he trusted in you immediately, sharing with you secrets he wouldn't dare tell other strangers.

"I'm a mage," he had told you suddenly over porridge one morning. He clenched his large palms into equally large fists and laid his forearm upon the table, facing upwards towards the canopy of jade leaves above your heads. "You see those blue lines? They're called veins, and our blood runs through these."

You nodded silently, unsure of what his point was.

"In mine, flows blood as well as chaos," he explained. "Almost anybody can do basic magic, provided you're taught by the right people."

Using his other hand, he ran a gentle finger down the stripe of his prominent veins, and the cerulean bumps bubbled and boiled into a startling shade of sunlight. You squinted in awe; you swore you could see a lightning storm rattling around inside of his arm.

"But only those born into chaos possess the abilities to truly wield it." Yeosang snapped his fingers, and the bolts of lightning in his veins returned to the cool, sea blue they were before.

He had grinned at you then, proud that his magic had impressed you. He didn't get to show off his magic often; most people would trade his life and talent for money in a heartbeat. 

Except now, Yeosang wore a frown as you pleaded with him.

"Why can't you teach me any magic?" you beg. "You said yourself that anybody can be taught! By the looks of it you're well up to the task!"

You follow him like an excited puppy, bouncing along behind him and pawing at the back of his shirt to get his attention. Yeosang had his back turned to you, intent on finding the wolfsbane he had been asked to find before you arrived in his life and threw it slightly (majorly) off balance.

"I said no, Iris" he murmurs, keeping his eyes on the mossy ground.

You weren't sure where Yeosang had gotten the name 'Iris' from, or why he started calling you that in the first place. It certainly wasn't your name. Not that you had ever told him your name. He had never asked, so you assumed he didn't want to know. Either way, you didn't care, nor did you find it particularly important, so you let him call you whatever he pleased.

"Why?" you whine, grabbing the bottom of his cotton shirt and pulling it. "What harm can it do to just teach me a little magic?"

He sighs harshly, and turns to face you. Scowl evident, he shoves a handful of wolfsbane into a basket and grabs you firmly by the shoulders.

"I said no. Do not make me repeat myself. Do I make myself clear?" His eyes burn into yours and guilt washes over you; you hadn't meant to make him angry.

"But-"

"I said," he growls. "Do I make myself clear?"

You stare up meekly into his eyes, seeing the same flashes of firebolts from his veins, now crashing around his pupils. You nod, not uttering a word. Yeosang lets you go with a soft huff, and heads back up towards the house. If you'd have known he would get so angry with you, you wouldn't have pestered him so badly.

A few more days pass, and neither you or Yeosang bring up the incident in the woods. You, in fear of angering him again, and you assume Yeosang just didn't want to mention the subject at all. Maybe it was a sensitive topic for him? He acts like it never happened, resuming teaching you how to cook various stews and soups, testing you on the properties of sage and echinacea.

"Echinacea... helps burns?" you hazard a guess, Yeosang's face contorting to an expression of pain informing you that once again, you were wrong.

"Echinacea helps colds and flu." he corrects you with a sigh.

Frustrated, you hurl your notebook down onto the desk in Yeosang's study, crossing your arms and exhaling harshly, much like a horse. His study was as breathtaking as the rest of his house. It was smaller compared to the main, circular room and had no windows. With no natural light, Yeosang had strewn luminescent mushrooms across the ceiling and draped them all over the walls. They were long and thin, but the heads and stems shone bright in tones of seafoam green and azure blue. They made the room glow a strange, ocean mash of colour, often making Yeosang look as if the ocean floor had sprouted atop his head, dyeing his neutral blonde locks with a very startling sea themed concoction.

The room had an earthy smell, as did the entire house. You theorised Yeosang either had an addiction to growing plants in his house, or plainly a plant addiction. Still, the air throughout his home was always immaculately clean, so you couldn't complain about the slight dirt smell, or the soil that was always clinging to your arms and legs. 

"I'm no good at this, Yeosang!" you cry. "I don't know why I bother!"

You glare angrily at the wooden planks of the floor, blinking back frustrated tears. You desperately wanted to prove to Yeosang that you were capable of learning something worthwhile. After all, your survival depended on it; why would he keep you around, feed you, house you, protect you, if you couldn't offer anything back to him? More than that, it actually gave you a purpose, something more than just stealing your way through the game of life. Here you were, handed an opportunity to learn and, provided you were any good at it, use the skills to help people in the future instead of stealing the products of other people's hard work and determination.

You're dragged from your thoughts by Yeosang crouching down at your figure sitting on his desk chair. He softly places his rough hands on your knees and offers a rare, but soft and caring smile.

"You'll get the hang of it ,Iris, don't fret. I failed my alchemy exam five times before I finally passed it." His eyes crinkle at the corners when he hears your quiet laugh at his comment.

"Only an idiot would fail five times," you quip. "What happened to three time's the charm?"

"Charm is a load of bullshit," he remarks. "Everything is decided by fate, you know that don't you?"

You nod in response. Everybody knows your destiny is your destiny. It can't be changed, altered or avoided. You wonder if magic has any effect on destiny. After all, before meeting Yeosang you had no idea magic was real in the first place, so really the possibilites could be endless.

"Does magic work on destiny?" You ask the golden haired mage.

Yeosang leans back on his heels, glancing up at the glowing fungi as he ponders his answer.

"Yes and no," he admits. "No magic can directly change, or redirect your fate. But magic can delay it, sometimes quite significantly"

"How so?"

Yeosang lets go of your knees and with a grunt, falls back so he's sitting on the floor in front of you.

"Are you familiar with Virgil's Aenied?"

He takes your silence as a 'no'.

"The Aeneid is an epic poem, centered around a single man named Aeneas, whose destiny is to discover the land that would become Rome. There's a lot that goes on inbetween," Yeosang explains. "but Juno, the goddess of love and marriage, despised Aeneas, and did everything in her power to make sure Aeneas would never be the catalyst of Rome's foundations."

"But Juno couldn't stop him from doing that, could she?" You connect the dots fairly quickly, and Yeosang nods.

"Correct. Even the gods have to abide by the laws of destiny. Jupiter himself unravels the scrolls of time and fate, and nobody can change them. But what Juno did succeed with, was delaying Aeneas as much as possible. Setting him back years and years from the destiny bestowed upon him from the very beginning, at the sack of Troy."

"Do the gods powers count as magic though? You're not a god" You think aloud. You think you catch a wave of offense wash over Yeosang's face, but it passes so quickly you can't be sure.

"In a way, I suppose you can view it as a divine type of magic, magic so powerful that people on our realm couldn't possibly wield it without certain death, or other circumstance..." The mage stands up, bones in his knees cracking as he moves.

"Anyway," he continues. "My point was that your destiny is exactly that. It's been written in the stars since the very dawn of time, and you physically cannot escape it. You may delay it, but the time will come where you will have to fulfill your role in destiny's prophecy. The first step to that though, my young student, is passing your alchemy exam!"

You and Yeosang spent the next couple of days pouring over his hand-written notebooks, reading and re-reading his scrawled handwriting and weirdly endearing drawings. Him presenting you with various herbs and smoking liquids, making you guess what they were used for and forcing you to eat and drink the gross ones when you got the answers wrong. You hated it, but his method of teaching was rather effective.

"We're going to have to make a trip into the city," he tells you one gorgeously warm afternoon. "I've run out of primrose and the only source I can get it is the kingdom."

Yeosang hadn't taken you to the kingdom of Ateez yet, nor had he visited there since your arrival, but the way he spoke about it terrified you to your core. He refused to go unless he needed to, no pleasant day trips or lesiurely strolls. For him, it was dangerous.

"The King has a special band of witch-hunters," Yeosang explained to you as he grabbed his brown satchel and coin purse. "Of course, they're just referred to as 'guards', he wouldn't want rival kingdoms knowing he was explicitly prejudiced towards anybody." he spat.

"Have you met the king?" you ask quietly, handing him a notebook with a list of items you needed to purchase.

Yeosang notably hesitated.

"Yes... he helped me a lot. He gave me this land, and in return I occasionally do him favours."

"I thought he didn't like mages?"

"Hatred for magic kinds is rooted in fear," he turns to you. "Whether or not you like a mage, it is always better to have one on your side, as opposed to having one against you."

"So if the king likes you, why are you so worried about going to the kingdom?"

Yeosang wedges a soil brown hat onto your head, pulling it down over your eyes.

"He doesn't like me," he corrects you. "He merely tolerates me because I posses something that may prove very useful to him one day. Anyway, enough questions, small one. We have plants to buy!"

\---

You wished Yeosang had told you just how long the walk to Ateez was before you agreed to go with him. Technically you didn't have a choice, but still. You'd been wearing 'tailored' versions of Yeosang's clothes (tailored being he had ripped the excess material off), as your own were ruined beyond repair during the storm. They were too big for you even still, the sleeves of his white cotton shirt coming past your fingertips and copper breeches almost hanging off you if not for the makeshift belt, (wine red ribbon Yeosang used to bunch flowers together) tied around your waist. As grateful as you were, his clothes were weighing you down and making the journey painfully longer.

"We're almost there, Iris!" Yeosang calls back to you. He was wearing an outfit similar to yours, except his actually fit and suited him. He was extremely good looking, you'd admit. What with his piercing cobalt eyes and effortlessly wavy hair. You wondered why he had been alone before he met you, and for what reason. 

You turn your attention to where Yeosang was pointing and felt your stomach drop immediately. It felt as if a pit had opened at the base of your torso and every one of your organs was being sucked into the abyss. Despite the uncomfortable feeling seeping throughout your body, you felt compelled towards the miles of kingdom below you. You could see almost the entire kingdom from your position on top of the hill. You realised too, that the western side was situated on the edge of a cliff, with your best friend, the ocean, waiting readily thousands of feet below. You felt uneasy thinking about the drop.

Between the bottom of the hill and the gates of Ateez, was a vast stretch of forest. Towering oaks bundled together like a poor family on a cold night, protecting one another with what little comfort they could provide. You didn't want to imagine what creatures lurked in the woods either, having a hunch that they wouldn't welcome strangers into their habitats with welcome arms.

"We don't have to walk down this hill, do we?" you gulped.

"No," Yeosang said. "We can just jump."

You stared at him.

"Of course we have to walk down it, Iris."

You both began the everlasting descent down the hill. Luckily, a dirt path had been stamped into the grass by plenty of other people making the same journey as you.

No matter how much you tried to push down the growing feeling in your stomach, it wouldn't go away.

You could hardly explain the feeling either. Like your intenstines were lined with the prettiest hydrangeas, and somebody was tugging at the flowers with the strength of a thousand horses, but regardless of how hard they pulled, the roots stayed firmly put. 

You surveyed the kingdom, the endless rows of tiny houses and roads, the pathway up to the gates of the castle and the grand towers standing in the castle grounds. On the highest part of the city, towards the east, was the most important building of all; the castle itself. Overlooking the entire of Ateez which stretched out for miles.

"Once we reach the bottom of this hill," you ask. "Won't we have to walk all the way to the gates?"

Yeosang glances back over his shoulder at you, pushing his wavy blonde hair out of his face.

"No, they have horses and carriages that take people to the city, thank the gods."

After approximately 3 decades, you and Yeosang reach the bottom of the hill (more like a mountain, you think). Yeosang guides you over to a line of carriages, attached to the biggest, bulkiest horses you've ever seen. The ones you'd seen back at home were simple, baggage carrying horses. Nothing compared to these absolute monsters. Your companion hands the coachman of a carriage a handful of coins, and you both clamber into the back.

Throughout the journey, the hole in your stomach continues to expand, growing deeper and wider that you're surprised it hasn't totally consumed you. The closer you get to the kingdom gates, the more and more nauseous you feel, the beating of your heart and pounding in your head keeping perfect time with the canter of the Shire horse pulling you along.

_The second cog, hand-crafted but not yet complete, waits patiently. He cannot continue welding it until the next steps are taken; until destiny is fulfilled. Until then, he sets the half-finished cog on his workshop table, then he too, sits patiently. Fate is a waiting game, and everyone is a pawn to fate._


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forced into updating a little early smh,,,  
> enjoy tho hehe

You had never been so overwhelmed in your entire life.

Standing in the middle of a packed market, glued to Yeosang's side. Ateez's market was probably 5 times the size of the one you routinely stole from not so long ago. Atinians bustled around you, some behind stalls piled high with goods for sale, some rushing past you in muddy, floor length cloaks.

Children play amidst the adults doing their daily business. You didn't know what they were playing, but judging by the sticks in their hands, they were pretending to be wizards. Or maybe they were imitating the guards? You pitied them, knowing that the young children most likely idolised the figures who were supposed to 'protect' them. Realistically, the guards didn't give a shit. About any of them.

"Come, follow me." Yeosang mutters into your ear, tugging your sleeve.

You follow him obediently, accidentally tripping him up a few times from how closely you stick by his side.

Yeosang brings you to a small building a few streets away from the market. The glass windows are completely filthy, but the plants underneath it are freshly watered and bursting with colour. Yeosang pushes the door open and a bell tinkles to indicate your arrival.

"Morning!" a voice calls out from the other end of the shop. "Welcome to the Ateez Apothecary! What can I help you with?"

Behind a wooden counter, stands a tall man with a sweep of curly, gingerbread coloured hair. He smiles at you, and you're positive his grin could melt butter. As you get closer, you're also convinced he holds the entire galaxy in his eyes. Even the most expert astrologer would have difficulty telling apart this man's eyes and the glittering stars in the sky. His cheeks fill out when he smiles wider (if that was even possible), recognising the mage you were accompanying.

"Yeosang? It's been ages since I last saw your face around here! How's it going?" His accent is rougher than Yeosang's, still soft but possessing a twang you couldn't quite put your finger on. 

Yeosang nods, offering a small, slightly awkward smile in return.

"Nice to see you again, Yunho."

Yunho peers over Yeosang's shoulders to look at you. Which isn't hard; you don't think you've seen anybody as tall as him before.

"Who's this, eh? Finally got yourself a girlfriend? About time, 'Sang!"

Both you and Yeosang flush an angry red, mortified at the thought of having that kind of relationship with each other.

"No!" Yeosang counters quickly. "She's my... student."

Yunho nods, looking at Yeosang expectedly.

"Yunho, this is Iris. Iris, this is Yunho. He runs the apothecary here in Ateez, he's also their main doctor."

"Nice to meet you!" You reciprocate Yunho's giant grin with a short, polite smile of your own. The unsettling feeling in your gut hadn't weakened in the slightest, and this incredibly tall, baby-faced medic wasn't going to change that.

You hung around by the door while Yeosang bought all the ingredients he needed, not wanting to get in the way or interupt a conversation you knew little to nothing about. 

The shop had rows of ceiling high shelves placed in the middle of the room, the only empty space being a straight passage from the door to the counter where Yunho stood. You peeked into the glass jars on the shelves, recognising plants such as lemon balm and chickweed that Yeosang grew himself at home. 

Further down the shelves were much bigger jars containing suspicious things you couldn't make out, although some of the questionable things floating around in the jars of water looked like body parts of small animals, so you decided you would rather not know.

You watch as Yunho retrieves various items from the cupboards behind him, placing them into a worn, cloth bag and tying it with a small cord of rope. You notice his hands were large, probably the same size as Yeosang's. They were more careful than the mage's though, littered with tiny scars across his fingers. A skilled doctor's hand, you guessed. Yunho picks things up gently, putting a handful of griffin feathers into the bag as if they were made of the finest Yirelian crystal, whereas Yeosang practically flings bowls of porridge at you during breakfast.

You wave goodbye to Yunho once Yeosang had purchased everything he needs. He waves back, flashing his signature grin that you couldn't help but show a similar smile of your own.

"Bye Yeosang! See you later, little lady!" Yunho winks at you as you leave his shop, leaving you wondering if he's that friendly to all his customers.

\---

Yeosang spends the next couple of hours showing you around Ateez, leading you back through the market and up through the streets, past packed taverns and a fairly run-down school, ushering you past what appears to be a brothel in the dingiest parts of the town. He doesn't take you up the steps to the highest parts of the kingdom, explaining that only the rich live up there, and you'd probably be thrown straight back down them by the guards if you even tried it.

He takes you to the plaza at the base of the staircase, cautiously eyeing up the armoured guards who are just dying for a commoner to try legging it up the stairs so their jobs are a little less dull. In this area of the city, the cobblestone streets are filthy, horse shit packed into the cracks of the stone by carriage wheels and people's shoes; you could see why the wealthy had their own part of the kingdom, you don't think you'd want to live here either.

Yeosang points up just past your shoulder, towards the staircase.

"You see up there?" he asks you. "That tower with the fire in it?"

You nod, seeing a giant stone tower, glowing a salamandrine orange at it's peak. It's the highest building of the royal court and the only part of the grounds you can see from your lowered position.

"That's where the King lives. And all his pretentious staff." he spits.

You wonder how many people live on the royal grounds, just how many staff the king has. You wonder what the king is doing right now, surrounded by luxury, riches and everything anybody could ever want while you and the commoners of the city make do with what you can within eye view of his castle.

"You don't seem particularly fond of him, Yeosang." you chuckle.

He laughs bitterly in response.

You wonder what the king is like; is he as insufferable as Yeosang makes him out to be? In your mind, the king is a fairly old man, strong but frayed around the edges with time and wisdom. He's dealt with enough shit to last him mutiple lifetimes, in your fantasy he's fought in epic battles, maybe he even has a scar running through his eye like fairytale kings do.

"Like I said, we tolerate each other. Anyway, we should be getting home."

You retrace your steps, hurrying back past the brothel, which now as it's getting dark has strumpets filing out the doors, ready for a nights work. The women are beautiful, dressed in almost nothing to accentuate their curves and entice customers. You frown, wondering if they enjoy what they do. You hope those who don't find a career they love. They smile at you though, and you smile back. Something inside you yearns to look as gorgeous as they do; face made up and an outfit that looks flawless on your body. For now, Yeosang's oversized hand-me-downs will have to suffice.

As you near the market, Yeosang notices a sizeable crowd gathered around a small collection of stalls. Which just so happens to be right in your way. The blonde grabs onto your hand tightly, instructing you to not let go.

He drags you towards the gaggle of people, muttering 'excuse me's' and cursing people who refuse to move out of his way. Helplessly, you allow him to pull you along, not sure what you could even do to help with your small stature, attempting to stab the strangers with your narrow shoulders nonetheless.

You're in the thick of the crowd now, and you overhear the arguments of angry Atinians around you. Their anger continues to grow, and the furious merchant shoves one of his former customers over his table of goods, sending him sprawling into the crowd.

You just manage to avoid being sent flying yourself, but in the madness you discover you're no longer clutching Yeosang's palm in your hand.

Maybe it was the horde of angry people around you, or maybe it was the panic of losing Yeosang. It could have been the dread that had been slowly rising up inside you since you laid eyes on this stupid kingdom finally engulfing you like flames, the burning fires licking at your skin and furiously spitting heat in all directions. Whatever it was, it hit you like a sack of bricks, causing you to grab onto the nearest table to lean on and catch your breath.

Unfortunately, with your vision blurred, you completely miss the table,and instead your arm lurches out and sweeps all the produce onto the street with an unmissable crash.

You can't see, you can't breathe, and your head feels like a horse is stomping on it over and over again. 

"Y-yeosang-" You call out weakly, but the enraged yell of the merchant drowns out your cry.

"What's this?" He spits at you. "A fuckin' thief? You scummy little bastards never fuckin' learn do yah?" 

He grabs you harshly by the back of your neck, hauling you up off the ground towards him and your back crashes into his chest.

"Guards!" he screams. "Caught another one of the filthy street rats!"

The merchant snarls behind you, but you can't focus on him. The crowd has partially dissipated, allowing you to see the clear figure of Yeosang, a few metres behind the mob. You blink furiously, not believing that Yeosang was just... standing there?

Staring at you, frozen in place.

You open your mouth to shout his name, properly this time, but a cruel hand clamps over the lower half of your face, and your arms are yanked behind you. You're surprised they didn't pop your shoulders out of their sockets.

"Another thief, eh?" The guard has a vice grip on you, his voice teasing but still dripping with malice. "The kingsguard really isn't going to be impressed."

"Fifth one today!" Another guard speaks.

"Maybe he'll kill you himself!"

The guards begin to tug you away from the market, their patronizing comments falling on your deaf ears, as you focus only on Yeosang in the distance through cloudy eyes.

He raises his right arm slowly, not too large of a movement to attract unwanted attention, but enough for you to spot it. He mumbles something, you being too far now to hear or even lip-read, but you know he's about to do magic. You've spent enough time with him, watching him perform the smallest feats of magic which leave you in awe.

You begin to guess what he's about to do; unleash an enormous kinetic blast to send these pathetic civilians reeling? Invoke the gods of chaos themselves and bring down a fireball storm to make everybody scatter?

Your heart drops into your stomach when you realise Yeosang does none of those things.

Instead, he turns his head away from you, bringing his right arm down forcefully and and fast as you can blink, he's gone.

With just an instant, blinding flash of white light that leaves you momentarily blind.

Leaving nothing but a faint cloud of yellow hued smoke in his place.


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! sorry this took longer than usual to get out, i've been super busy with work and life in general and didn't have much time or motivation or write, but!!! here is an update! hope u enjoy x

You had assumed that you'd end up in prison one day. But not the one time you haven't actually stolen anything.

"I wasn't stealing anything!" You protested loudly as the guards dragged you along. "I'm not a thief!"

Of course, they hadn't believed you, which was why you were currently curled up on the cold, stone floor of the castle prison. 

According to the guards infernal teasing, you were one of multiple thieves caught that day alone, and incedently the last straw for the kingsguard. They had been instructed to bring any other thieves directly to the castle instead of the general prison in the lower settlements of the city for the irritated kingsguard to personally deal with.

Just your luck.

You sat in the tiny cell; 3 rough cobblestone walls and a dark iron gate you have to call home for god knows how long. 

Huddled on the ground, your mind wanders back to Yeosang.

Back to Yeosang and how he simply abandoned you in the market, allowing the guards to drag you away and throw you in this dingy castle cellar.

You knew deep down that finding someone as generous and selfless as Yeosang was too good to be true, his immediate welcoming aura should've been suspicious to you. Nobody is ever that nice. It was a shame that he ended up proving you right. 

You just hope he didn't _truly_ leave you here.

He's all you have.

With a groan, you haul yourself off the floor and stretch your limbs out; you can't see the outside from your cell, but you're certain the sun has set in the hours you've been confined in the castle prison.

Pacing back and forth through the cell, you don't notice two guards- different from the ones who arrested you- unlock the heavy metal door.

"Prancing about like a little fairy, are we?" One of them sneers. 

The other grabs you harshly by your wrists, pulling them behind you and binding them together with a scratchy length of rope.

"Kingsguard wants to meet you, little fairy." His face contorts into the ugliest expression you've ever seen. You think it's supposed to resemble a menacing grin, but the lack of joy this vile human has ever experienced prevents him from actually being able to smile.

"He's intrigued about our sweet little thief," the other continues. "Not often we get a lady prisoner down here."

You don't need to be a genius to figure out what they're thinking.

So instead, you stay quiet and let them push you through the cobblestone hallway of the prison, up until you're face to face with giant, mahogany doors.

The guard tugs the ropes impossibly tighter around your wrists and you wonder whether or not your hands are getting any blood circulation. 

Probably not.

"You try anything in front of the kingsguard..." The second guard flashes his glistening sword threateningly around the side of your neck, running the edge of the blade gently across your skin and making you shudder.

You're pretty sure you understand what he's getting at.

They carry on escorting you through the castle, through hallways lined with plush crimson rugs and exquisite paintings hanging on the walls. Floor to ceiling curtains hang on almost every wall, illuminated a deep wine red by the torches glowing throughout the passage.

You pass a set of grand doors on your right, only allowing you a brief peek inside, but you're stunned.

What you assume to be the grand hall of the castle, is absolutely breath-taking.

You only catch a glimpse of the polished brown tile floor and the oak dining tables stretched out from one end of the hall to the other, which seem to extend for miles. You can't even begin to imagine the extravagant balls and banquets the king holds in there. The guards quickly whisk you into a room just beyond the hall doors, ripping you from the luxurious daydream you had begun to imagine.

The room is a neat, box-shape, with pale grey stone walls and the same blood red curtains decorating the walls to your left and your right. In front of you, the stone walls are replaced with gorgeous stained glass windows, which you can only imagine filter in a spectrum of colours in the sunlight. However, the darkness offers no beauty to the glass pictures, and the colours sit stagnant, miserable and dull in their panes.

Between you and the windows, was a large, oak desk, littered with various books, letters and empty ink bottles. Whoever wrote at this desk clearly had an issue with organisation, you think.

You needn't look very far for the culprit; to your right is a very tall and slender man (not as tall as Yunho, you note) standing before a exceptionally carved bookcase, pouring over a book he's holding gently in his hands.

The guard holding your bound wrists coughs, and the tall man snaps his book shut with a start.

"Have you never heard of knocking?!" He seethes, whipping his head round to glare at the source of his interruption.

Momentarily, your brain stops and you're sure you feel your jaw drop. (It does).

He is...

"Handsome?" The man quips with a knowing smirk. "I know"

He places the book back into place with ease, slotting it between the other books like he's done it a million times before, and slowly makes his way over to you.

You watch as he moves, almost like a cat he's wary and precise, but in the same way he's sleek and graceful. He wastes zero movement, not making any unnecessary steps and always being on his guard.

His figure is tall and lean, with a narrow face and cheekbones that Aphrodite herself must've sculpted. He's got huge, rich brown eyes, piercing but you sense enough softness in them to make even the coldest heart melt. His hair is raven black, a fair portion of it hanging down over his left eye. Dressed in a fitted, raven black coat and trouser ensemble, he looks incredibly intimidating. In short, he is very, very, _very_ attractive.

He's also far from impressed at your presence. 

"So, another thief caught in our market today, hm?" He towers over you threateningly and you find yourself refusing to meet his gaze.

"Yes, sir," The guard begins. "She was ste-"

"I wasn't talking to you." The painfully beautiful man snaps sharply, his piercing glare boring straight into the guards eyes and halting his flow of speech abruptly.

"Right," the guard nods meekly; if he had a tail you're certain he'd be tucking it between his legs. "Sorry, Seonghwa, sir."

Seonghwa sighs deeply and takes a step back from you, placing his palms flat against the desk and leaning on it, observing you in a way that makes you incredibly uncomfortable.

"I'll be honest, a sweet little thing like you was the last thing I expected these lumbering fools to bring through my doors." he chuckles almost dismissively, like he suddenly thinks you're not worth the time and effort to speak to just because you aren't the typical drunken fool he usually has to deal with. 

You frown as he speaks; were all royal employees patronising arseholes?

Despite your distaste for his character, you still couldn't bring yourself to look him in the eye, instead keeping your gaze fixed adamantly on the lavish carpet underneath your filthy shoes.

"Look at me when I'm speaking to you." his voice plummets an octave or two, and your head tilts upwards to meet his gaze before you even register the movement. 

It seems you forgot exactly who this man was. You'd never met a kingsguard before, (probably because you'd never been in a castle), but you knew he was extremely powerful and important.

Essentially the king's right hand man, Seonghwa could order you to be killed purely for his own amusement.

"That's better." He has the audacity to smirk, and you want nothing more to slap it off his stupidly handsome face. But considering how your hands are still tightly restrained behind your back, you don't.

"So," Seonghwa sighs. "Would you like to tell me why you thought stealing from the market was a good idea?"

You scan his face carefully. You can tell he's already on edge, what from the countless other thieves he's dealt with today, as well as other pressures from holding a key role in the kingdom. You don't particularly care about the condescending kingsguard has to deal with day to day and how stressed he is, but you do care about your own head, so trying your best not to anger him even more would be the safest course of action.

"I was-wasn't!" You stumble over your words, groaning internally when Seonghwa's eyebrows knit together.

"Oh?" He pushes himself off the table towards you once more, piercing your eyes with his own penetrating glare. "Now you think it's okay to _lie_ to me?"

"No! I didn't steal anything I swe-"

Your rambling is cut off by Seonghwa grabbing roughly at your shoulders and bringing his face level with yours.

"Be quiet." He growls. "I was willing to listen to you, but clearly you think lying to me is accept"

Seonghwa turns his attention back to guards, straightening out his posture and somehow looking even more menacing than before.

"Take her back to her cell. I have more important matters to attend to at the moment. More important than some filthy street rat, anyway. I'll visit later and we can discuss the situation then."

With that he turns away from you, and you don't see what he does next because the guards have already shoved you out of Seonghwa's study and halfway down the hallway. 

They waste no time locking you back up like some common criminal, although to them that's exactly what you are.

You throw yourself down into the corner and eye the guards, who are now standing on duty just to the left of your cell.

"Seonghwa's in a right foul mood today" one of them grumbles.

"King's been banging on about that fuckin' prophecy again." the other replies. "You know how hassled they get over it."

Prophecy? What on earth were they talking about?

"It's a load of horseshit if you ask me. Written in the stars? There's more truth in the shit on the bottom of my boots." the guard mocks with a short laugh, which sounds more like the grunting of a very large pig.

"Whatever it is, the king goes mad over it so shut your trap. If he catches you takin' the piss he'll have your head for it."

You tune out the rest of their conversation, wondering whether or not the plan formulating in your head could work. It's not like you have any other choice though, is it?

Yeosang left you here, in the clutches of the stuck-up royal assholes. You doubt he knew they took you directly to the castle, but that was besides the point. He left you. And you didn't know if he would try and get you out. So the only person who can help you, is yourself.

And you had just the plan.

\---

Hours pass until you hear the unfamilar clacking of shoes echoing through the prison hallway, bringing you out of your slumber.

"Sleeping, little thief?" your sleepy eyes snap open and you find yourself staring up at Seonghwa, who is unfortunately, still as stunning as before.

You pick yourself up off the floor, moving slightly closer to the iron gate, but not too close.

"Scared?" he questions mockingly. "I won't bite".

You remain silent, only eyeing him with a steely gaze. 

"We have two options here, my love." Seonghwa looks at you with an expression you can't quite read. All you can tell is that the kingsguard loves to mock and play mind games with you. And this is a game you do not have the time, nor the patience for.

"I can let you go, at the price of risking you stealing from our poor merchants again, which, and I'm sure you'll understand, is something I and the rest of the royal court do not want."

You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the catch. There's always a catch.

"Or... I can order to have you killed. Meaning there's zero possibility of you thieving, bothering, or annoying me ever again, which, and once again I'm sure you'll understand, works out much better for me."

He stands on the other side of the gate, a smug smirk painted on his face. You'd love nothing more than to punch him straight between the eyes.

"I'm not too sure you'd want to have me killed though, Mr. Kingsguard." you quip, watching his face contort into one of both intrigue and confusion.

"And why would that be?"

"Because I have information I'm sure the king would be thrilled to have." Seonghwa's face drops somewhat, the traces of sarcasm wash away and are replaced with caution. He's wary of you; you can see it in the way he's standing with his arms folded tightly across his chest, signifying he doesn't quite believe you yet, but the way he's ever so slightly leaning forward towards you shows you that just one more tiny push and the kingsguard will be wrapped around your little finger. Here goes nothing.

"Information regarding what exactly?" he asks.

"The _prophecy_ , of course." you reply matter-of-factly.

Seonghwa's jaw falls open and his eyebrows band together. His deep hazel eyes lose their patronizing glint and he stares at you in bewilderment.

There's a brief pause and a tense silence between you while the kingsguard collects his thoughts.

Suddenly, he clears his throat and straightens his posture, tugging the collar of his smart, black uniform around his neck.

"Very well," he responds at last. "I'll arrange a meeting with the King himself, and if I catch even a whiff of bullshit from you, little thief, you'll be buried six feet under quicker than you can say kingsguard." Seonghwa departs with a growl, turning on his heel and marching out of the prison, his polished, heeled boots clacking against the stone as he strides.

You exhale heavily, letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. 

You didn't know whether meeting the King and attempting to convince him you were an expert on something you had literally never heard of before was better or worse than being executed and buried six feet deep underground, but now it was clear you really had no choice.

What on earth had you gotten yourself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, (gentle) constructive criticism is welcome! additionally, pointing out things u liked is super helpful and helps me improve my writings! thank u so much!  
> (also can u tell how whipped i am for seonghwa lmfaooo)


	8. eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im rlly sorry for not updating in ages!!! life gets a little too hectic at times. anyways i've had this sitting in the drafts for a while and i accidentally put it on tumblr and forgot to post it here, so i'm srry about that! hope u enjoy!

It wasn't until the next afternoon that a pair of guards you hadn't met before came to collect you for your meeting with the king. They said nothing to you as they took your arms, pulling them behind your back and tying them in a fasion you'd become much too familiar with. 

"What's the king like?" you question as they guide you through the same route you were taken through yesterday.

They maintain their silence, so you opt to imagine what the king is like instead.

You picture a rather plump, older man, probably in his 50s. He's got short, snowy white hair and a inky black beard speckled with tawny brown and silver. You imagine him to be stocky and built, but years of war have slowed him down considerabley; he's wise, but a complete dick. It would make sense for him to have such a youthful kingsguard, (Seonghwa can't be any older than 26, you guess), a king worn by age wouldn't be able to protect himself as well as he could in his prime.

Instead of taking you to the study, the guards manoeuvre you past the room and up a spiralling flight of stairs, leaving you wondering just where they're taking you.

You get to the top of the staircase, and you're pushed immediately to your right. One of the guards raps loudly against the hard wood of the door, and waits until a voice unknown to you shouts for you to enter. 

The guard opens the door, and they shove you in harshly, your shoe getting caught on the worn, patterned rug and almost losing your footing. The door slams shut behind you, and you realise the guards haven't followed suit; you're alone.

The room appears to be both a study and a miniature library, considerably bigger than Seonghwa's room downstairs, but you assume it's far from the biggest room in the castle.

To your right, the three walls are lined with around a dozen ceiling high bookcases, each shelf packed full of books or stacked high with parchments. Two wooden benches are placed back to back in between the bookcases, each one has a soft-looking blanket thrown over the seats. You can only wonder what magnificant beasts those pelts came from. Above the benches is an extremely luxurious chandelier made from a dark, wrought iron, the only spattering of colour being a small but beautiful collection of assorted jewels dangling from the center, and the lit candles in each placeholder make them glitter softly. 

Shifting to your left, is a fairly large, mahogany desk, except this one isn't cluttered with notes and books; it's clean, bar one unrolled piece of parchment that you can't read from your position at the door. There are two, plain, high-backed chairs on your side of the desk, and a much grander, intricately carved seat on the opposite side. The wooden seat is hidden by a velvety soft, navy blue cushion, and the back is covered by a fur similar to that on the benches. That one is clearly for the king.

Just behind the royal seat, is a lit hearth, enveloping the entire room in an inviting sunset glow. There's a mirror hanging above the fireplace, the golden frame embossed by rubies, sapphires, emeralds and other precious stones you couldn't even hazard guessing the names of. 

The room exudes wealth, and you feel disgusting even just standing in it, adorning your shoes, caked with dried mud and your borrowed clothes from Yeosang. They're simple but any of these royals wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything of the sort.

You want nothing more than the ground to swallow you up whole. But you take a deep breath and compose yourself. After all, you're about to lie to the king of one of the most powerful kingdoms on the planet.

Speaking of the king, where is he?

"I don't give a shit, Hongjoong!" You hear an all too familiar voice suddenly shout.

"Excuse me?" 'Hongjoong' seethes back. "Who do you think you are to address me like that?"

"I'll address you however the fuck I want until you give he-"

"Yeosang?" you interrupt the tense argument between the two men, astonished to see the mage in front of you.

The blonde leaps up and hurries over to you, wrapping his shaking arms around you and pulling you into his chest without a second thought.

"I was so worried, thank the gods you're okay." he mumbles against your hair. All anger and pain you had melts away, as Yeosang had never shown you affection like this all the while you'd been his student. You decide to question him about it later, the other man in the room clearly about to voice his distate about the scene in front of him.

"Well isn't this sweet," the man Yeosang referred to as Hongjoong scorns, glaring at you both like you're something on the bottom of his incredibly polished boot. "If you could unhand my prisoner, Yeosang, I would be much obliged." he upkeeps his politeness, but does so with his teeth greeted.

You have zero idea who this man is, or what he could possibly be doing in the castle. 

You inspect him from across the room; he's got light, honey brown hair that's short at the top and longer at the back; travelling down to the base of his neck where his shoulders connect. As well as a small, sharp nose and rows of perfectly straight teeth. You notice multiple pieces of jewellery covering both his ears, as well as a necklace and an assortment of rings. He looks expensive; he looks regal.

He's also wearing a huge, light brown fur coat, probably from a bear, but you couldn't be sure. Honestly, the coat drowns him and makes him look much smaller than he really is, but it's an impressive piece of clothing nonetheless. Underneath is a plain white shirt, not too different from the ones Yeosang wears. Simple, sandy breeches and black boots like Seonghwa's. He's fairly short too, probably the same height as you, but much shorter than Yunho.

" _Your prisoner?_ " you scoff. "Who even are you?"

You direct your gaze to the man whose face is burning with increasing anger, and you miss the colour drain from Yeosang's face as he watches you insult the most important man in Ateez.

"Who am I?" he bellows. " _Who am I?_ "

Yeosang steps away from you and stands by the desk, like he's trying to referee the conversation. Although he's probably just trying to stop Hongjoong from killing you.

"Iris," Yeosang explains. "This is King Hongjoong of Ateez."

Your eyes widen and you freeze completely.

" _You're the king?_ " you repeat.

Hongjoong's face turns a deeper blood red, and you're worried he may pass out.

He isn't what you expected at all. 

He doesn't appear strong, or wise, or battered by war and struggles like the storybooks paint kings to be. He's young. You estimate he can't be much older than Yeosang or Seonghwa, or even yourself. 

" _I'm the King._ " Hongjoong spits with his teeth gritted together, and you can tell by his narrow glare that he's thinking of the quickest way to kill you.

Instead of insulting him further, you bow your head.

"I'm so sorry, your majesty," you apologise. "I didn't mean to cause any offense."

You glance over at Yeosang for approval on your apology and only get a 'it-could've-been-better' shrug in response.

Hongjoong pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs deeply to recollect himself. He's going to murder Seonghwa later for making him deal with such an irritating excuse of a human being.

"I'll excuse you, but only on the basis you have potentially useful information for me." he replies coldly.

"Information?" Yeosang shoots you a confused frown. "What information?" 

"About the prophecy." You stare Hongjoong straight in the eyes, seeing a fire ignite within them.

"Well?" The king prompts. "Out with it."

You internally prepare yourself for the lies you're about to conjure, like an actor about to make his debut on stage; your performance could make or break your future.

"Why should I simply just hand over my information?" You tilt your head slightly, ignoring the daggers Yeosang is shooting at you for once again being rude to the king. "What can I expect in return, _your majesty?_ "

Hongjoong's lip curls up into a nasty snarl; he's furious that you're challenging him, but- and he'd never admit it- he's impressed at the way you're bargaining.

His tongue comes out to poke the inside of his cheek and he turns his head to glance out the window. "I should've expected this from a common thief." he bites.

A moment or two passes of absolute silence. It would've taken the sharpest sword smithed by Hephaestus himself to cut through the air.

"Very well," Hongjoong suddenly barks. "What is it that you want?"

"My freedom," you rush out quickly. "And a favour, when the need should arise."

"A favour?" Hongjoong scoffs. "Why don't you go ahead and ask for my firstborn while you're at it!"

You raise an eyebrow at him. "Do you want help with your prophecy or not?"

"...Fine. You're no longer a prisoner, however if I find out at any point you're lying to me I will not hesitate to throw you back in jail." He turns his attention to Yeosang. "And as for you, you'll get much, much, worse."

You nod, but panic starts to bubble up inside you, as you are in fact lying to the king at this very moment, and intend to continue lying to him until he notices otherwise.

"So, what information did you have to share with me?" Hongjoong takes his beautiful fur coat off and hangs it on the back of his chair, pulls the chair out, then sits himself down and examines the parchment laying on his desk.

Both you and Yeosang take this as initiative to inspect it also, so you both walk around the sides of the table to stand behind Hongjoong.

The parchment appears ancient, frayed slightly around the edges and faded a burnt beige colour from age. The ink is fading, and you have to squint in places to read it. That is, if you could read it.

"What language is that?" you blurt out.

"It's Latin." Yeosang answers before Hongjoong can question your lack of knowledge. "I'm not fluent but I can pick out certain words."

He points to a word near the top of the scroll. "The Exitium?" he reads. "The destruction?"

Hongjoong nods. "The destruction, the ruin of this kingdom." he explains. "Every century, according to this prophecy, the gods send an incredibly powerful being to bring about the end of Ateez. So far, my ancestors have managed to locate the threat and quell it before it can occur."

"If it's prophesised, won't it happen one day anyway?" you ask, recalling your prior discussion about destiny with Yeosang.

"Of course it will," Hongjoong snaps. "But if we catch it early, we can delay it for another 100 years. Only this time it's become increasingly difficult to find. I'm worried we're dealing with something more than human."

"Anyway, that's where you come in," Hongjoong abruptly stands up, his chair scraping on the wooden floor and forcing you and Yeosang to step aside. "Surely your information will prove useful?" he challenges.

"Well... I-"

"We'll need an astrologer." Yeosang interrupts with a cough. Luckily, Hongjoong diverts his attention from you just as your plan begins to crumble.

"I've already consulted one, I'm no fool, mage."

"Of course you have," Yeosang nods. "But you haven't consulted this one."

\---

An hour later, you and Yeosang stroll out the front gates of the castle grounds, having struck a deal with the King of Ateez himself.

The giant oak gates close behind you with a _thunk_ , and you turn to Yeosang. But before you can speak, he raises a hand and smacks you across the back of the head.

" _That's for being so careless!_ " he barks.

You rub the back of your skull, looking up at him in bewilderment.

"Careless?!" you repeat. "You abandoned me! What else was I supposed to do?"

"Anything that wasn't agree to help the king on a subject you know nothing about!"

"Well I'm sorry, Yeosang! But I was all alone, and I didn't know what to do and I-"

Yeosang cuts off your rambling by once again tugging you into his chest, this time pecking the crown of your head as he hold you close.

"Obviously I was planning on coming back for you, fool." he whispers so softly you wonder if your ears are playing tricks on you.

"Well now you've gotten us into this mess, Iris, we're going to pay a visit to a friend of mine."

"You really know an astrologer?" You're shocked, thinking that Yeosang was plucking ideas out of thin air.

"Of course I do. Except he's a little reserved, so whether or not he'll help us is another question. But first, we have something else to attend to."

"What?" you question.

"You," he stops in his tracks and turns to face you. "need to pass your alchemy exam".

You roll your eyes. Of course Yeosang would prioritise that over a deal that could result in both your deaths.

"You are my student, after all." he explains. "I wouldn't be much of a teacher if you didn't have at least one qualification to your name."

"Anyway, come here. I'll teleport us home."

"You could teleport this entire time?!"

Yeosang shrugs.

You sigh as Yeosang pulls you against his side, telling you to close your eyes before he teleports, otherwise they'll most likely explode inside your skull and that was less than desireable.

You can't keep the small smile off your face though, glad that even if you've landed yourself in a potentially life-threatening deal with a king, at least you have Yeosang by your side.

That was all you needed.

Or so you thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading! as always, ANY comments are welcome! tell me what u liked, or tell me what you didn't (just be nice please huehue)


	9. nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!!! it's been a hot minute since i updated but iv'e had a very busy couple of weeks! hope you enjoy <33

Needless to say, passing your alchemy exam proved a far more difficult task than you had initially anticipated.

No wonder why Yeosang had failed it five times. 

You're sat in Yeosang's garden, perched on one of the benches placed against the wall of the house. The winding path through the woods is around a hundred metres ahead of you, and you often find yourself staring amoungst the tree trunks, wondering what could be lurking there.

You knew nothing could attack you on Yeosang's land; he had cast a protective charm over the entire area, so even if he wasn't here, you remained safe.

Although, grumbling at the exam paper in your lap, you half wished a griffin would come barrelling through the forest and rip you into shreds with it's deadly claws.

You're convinced it would be less painful than the questions on this exam.

_What is the purpose of bloodmoss?_ you read Yeosang's scruffy print, having been forced to get accustomed with his unintelligable handwriting.

"Oh, this is easy," you murmur to yourself, picking up your quill and scribbling your answer down quickly.

' _Bloodmoss is used to create Vitriol._ ' you scrawl. ''

You nod to yourself, proud that you seem to be doing fairly well, despite how challenging Yeosang made your test. You're convinced he did it on purpose. 

With a sigh, you turn the page and gratefully, you lay your eyes on the final question. That is, until you read it.

It doesn't even seem to be a question, nor is it written in Yeosang's usual hand. In fact, it appears to be from a book, the ink faded at the edge of the pages from people thumbing through the whole volume.

But why was there a single page mixed in with your alchemy exam?

' _Beserkers_ ' is written at the top of the page in a large, bold print.

' _Originating from the North, Beserkers are believed to have roots in powerful bear cults. Members of these cults are typically warriors, of whom are thought to manifest the strength of the bears themselves and enter a fit of frenzy. These frenzies are wild in nature, often leaving the individual considerabley weaker once the effect has worn off. It is debated whether or not these Beserkers metamorphose into bea-_ '

"Have you finished your exam yet, Iris?" Yeosang voice plummets you back down to earth, causing you to jump in your seat and almost send your papers flying out of your grip.

"Yeah!" you gasp, holding them out to him and he takes them with a smile.

As he goes back inside to mark your test, you decide not to ask him about the loose page hiding in your exam. It clearly wasn't supposed to be there, so you come to the conclusion that Yeosang doesn't want you knowing about it. Truth be told, whatever those things were, they seemed dangerous anyway. 

Yeosang finds you at the end of the garden a short while later, plucking daisies from the grass and knotting their stems together. He stands behind you, observing your creation of what he assumes will be a crown. You haven't noticed him yet, and he takes the moment to think.

He couldn't explain why he took you under his wing and trusted you immediately. There was just something about the way your two lonely souls happened to find one another that tugged at Yeosang's heart strings. He always was a sucker for sappy things like that. 

He was glad to have a human friend, for a change. Somebody that he could talk to, and they would offer him actual conversation back. He enjoyed his role as your teacher too; they had told him being an advisor of the arts was a position he was destined for, they just hadn't factored in the fact he despised them and everything they stood for. Besides, he knew your knowledge of magic was minimal, if not almost non-existent. Meaning there were little to no dangers here, and he refused to have a repeat of last time.

"Hey, you." Yeosang calls out, cautious not to make you jump again. "Want your exam results?"

You spin around on the grass instantaneously, probably staining the seat of your (Yeosang's) borrowed breeches in the process. You leap up, jumping towards him.

"I did awfully, didn't I?" you chew on your bottom lip nervously, playing with the ends of the sleeves on your (Yeosang's) shirt. 

"Congratulations, my tiny student," he smiles. "On being the only person I know to have passed their alchemy exam on their very first try."

He hands you the papers and you gawk at the mark score that reads fifty out of fifty points at the top. You stand there, frozen, staring at the numbers.

"Well?" Yeosang asks. "Aren't you going to thank me for being the best alchemy teacher ever?"

You look up at him to see the fond expression he seems to have gotten comfortable wearing.

Deciding to play along, and maybe embarrass him a little, you sweep down into a full bow.

"Thank you!" you cry. "O' great master of alchemy! How ever would I have gained such knowledge without your guidance? May the gods bless your so-"

"Okay, okay! That's overkill." Yeosang laughs at your exaggerated performance, then he notices your daisy crown, abandoned on the ground where you were sitting. 

He paces over to it and leans down to pick it up, and you watch him silently.

He crumples the flowers up into his palm, and closes his eyes.

A couple of seconds pass, and Yeosang's eyes flutter open, his irises burning a dandelion yellow. He turns to you, then opens his palms, leaving you in awe.

The daises you had picked, were tiny and snowy white, wrinkled and bearing few petals. But the daises Yeosang was presenting were gorgeous; each flower had grown to the size of roses, blooming a startling golden colour proudly in the mage's hands. 

Yeosang places the daisy crown on your head, and steps back to admire his work.

"Well done," he smiles softly. "I'm proud of you."

You can only give him back a wide grin, loving the sunshine yellow glow Yeosang's flowers leave against your hair.

\-----

"So, where does this astrolomer guy live?" you ask Yeosang a few days later during lunch.

"Astrologer." he corrects you, handing you a sandwich and a bowl of sliced apples.

"Yeah, that one."

Now that you had officially earned a beginner's alchemy qualification, Yeosang was content on making progress with the messy situation you had gotten him into.

"He lives just outside of Yirelia," he answers. "It'll take us a day or two to get there, so we'll have to rest at a village inn or something."

You nod and chew your food slowly, nerves already beginning to set in. You'd never travelled anywhere before, and you knew that with Yeosang by your side, you would be safe; he'd never let anything happen to you. But still, you couldn't help but feel a little nauseous.

"So, how come this astrolomer owes you a favour?" you ask, ignoring Yeosang rolling his eyes at you getting the stranger's profession wrong once again.

"Astrologer," he corrects you one more time, and you don't know why he bothers. "And I saved his life once. Us outcasts stick together."

"Outcast? Is he a mage too?"

"Not quite." Yeosang doesn't elaborate, so you take it as an unspoken hint to stop asking questions, and eat. 

The blonde mage bustles about the house for the rest of the day, gathering ingredients and bundling them into pouches, collecting bottles of brewed potions and lining them inside his satchel and packing clothes and food into a smaller, leather bag for you to carry.

"Do we really need all this?" you question him, surveying the small vial of yet another restoration potion he was clutching in his palm.

"Probably not," he tells you honestly. "But you never know when one of these little beauties could come in handy!"

You just nod, deciding to go along with his plan. You do that a lot with Yeosang, you noticed; just taking his words and concluding that he knows best in every situation. Perhaps for your own character it would be better to question him at times, but deep down you knew that without Yeosang's guidance you'd probably be buried six feet under in the Ateez graveyard.

No, they wouldn't have even buried you, they probably would have just thrown your body into the sea. Yeosang's ideas were (probably) better than that, so you opt to keep your mouth shut and assist him with the packing. 

The next morning, you set off, you clad in a seaweed green shirt and tight, black breeches. Yeosang had once again altered some of his old clothing for you to wear. If his mage work fell through, you think he'd make a spectacular tailor. 

Yeosang looks great (as usual), dressed in his typical white shirt and brown trousers, paired with a sweeping, wine red coat which has sleeves hiding most of his hands.

"That coat makes you look like a pirate." you muse aloud to him. You see a hint of offense strike his face, but he recovers quickly, grabbing his satchel and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Maybe I want to look like a pirate." he sniffs and turns away from you, marching off and starting your journey. 

You hurry to catch up with him, having to increase your pace to keep in time with his brisk pacing.

"So... we're just walking?" you question.

"Yes." Yeosang replies shortly.

"Right."

You wrinkle your nose; you'd hoped that he'd be a little more talkative but it seemed that when the mage had a goal, he was very determined to get it done. Or perhaps he had finally concluded he was in fact pissed off with you for getting him into a situation that required him to walk for two days straight?

"Do you wanna play a game?" you suddenly blurt.

\-----

"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with... T!"

"Tree?" you guess Yeosang's attempt at playing your game immediately.

"How are you so good at this?" Yeosang pouts; you've deciphered his hint on every single one of his turns so far, and you can't even tell how long it's been since you started. Time is an illusion when you're walking.

"Because there's nothing around us except for trees!" you yell. "What else could 'T' possibly be?!"

Yeosang falls silent at your outburst and carries on walking.

A while passes with the two of you in silence, and the guilt begins to creep in. You shouldn't have gotten mad at Yeosang, but he'd spied trees at least six times already and it really was getting frustrating. 

After deliberating for a few moments, to plan your apology to Yeosang. The game was your suggestion, after all, and it wasn't fair for you to snap at him.

"I'm sor-"

"There's a small town nearby," Yeosang cuts you off. "We can rest there for a bit and get something to eat."

The moment for you to apologise passes, and you can tell by how Yeosang refuses to meet your eye that you've upset him. You mutter a quiet agreement and you both carry on your way. 

You silently pray that the town wasn't too far away, the tense atmosphere becoming too much for you to handle and the guilt weighs heavy on your shoulders. Yeosang was good to you. more than good, in fact. He had literally saved your life, fixed you up and unveiled your hidden potential to be more than just some common thief, of course, he wasn't aware of your past, or indeed anything about your life from before you washed up just outside his back garden. But he still hadn't asked for any information regarding your former identity. Maybe it simply wasn't important to him? After all, the past was the past and what was most important was the present. Yeosang didn't seem the type to dwell on the 'before', instead focusing on the 'now'. In a way, you were grateful for it; you didn't want to think about his reaction if he discovered you were in fact a minor criminal.

Luckily, Yeosang brings you to the doors of what you assume to be a tavern, the hanging sign outside the door reading 'The Golden Treasure' in bold, professional lettering. However, the small crowd of drunks hanging around the entrance suggested this was a far from professional establishment.

You look up at Yeosang questioningly, and he responds with a shrug of his shoulders and a quick signal for you to stick close to him. 

As usual, you cling to the mage's side like a lost child, gripping the side of his red coat so tightly you're concerned your knuckles will rip through your skin.

The two of you keep your sights fixed on the doors, avoiding all possible eye-contact with the drunks whose intoxicated yelling was quickly escalating into a fist fight.

Yeosang rapidly whisks you up the steps and towards the door of the tavern to get you as far away from the men as quickly as he can.

"Jongho!" one of the men slurs. "Leave it man! It's not worth wasting your time on!" you witness a stocky, well-built young man with an oddly round, grizzly brown haircut be hauled back by another man much smaller than himself. It's a wonder how he can even tug the obviously stronger man away from his rival, but something tells you this isn't the first time he's had to do it.

Already through the threshold of the inn, you aren't able to watch the angry young man's response, but a shrill yelp of pain and the sound of a body colliding harshly with the ground tells you all you need to know.

Yeosang steers you by the shoulders up to the barkeeper to inquire about rooms, and you take the chance to study the inn. 

You'd never been inside a tavern before, the swarms of drunk folk loitering outside the building at night a clear reason for you to stay clear, but on the interior, you found it to be strangely comfortable.

It was a large, dim room with minimal light coming from the roaring fire situated opposite the door. Sturdy tables and less sturdy benches fill up the center of the room, empty goblets and playing cards strewn across the tabletops in an untidy fashion; perhaps the ruckus outside was the result of a card game gone awry.

On the far right was a staircase leading up, to where you presumed the rooms for travellers and the like were.

The whole room was highlighted by the familiar warm glow from the hearth, and your worries start to settle again, laying themselves to sleep like the exhausted people meters above your head. You feel the comfortable heat from the warm seep through your body, beginning at your fingertips and sliding underneath your skin. Even surrounded by dangerous strangers, you've oddly never felt more at home. There was something about being around Yeosang that just made you feel like you belonged. Like you and him were two pieces of a puzzle you'd spent years trying to figure out how to piece together. But now that you'd finally managed to get them to fit, you realised there was something missing. There were other pieces to the puzzle, but they were scattered around the box, and they were all painted pitch black; you had no idea which piece was which, or which piece you needed next. 

Still, you were content being at Yeosang's side. You were learning quickly, but he had noticed your appetite for knowledge growing rapidly, and truthfully, he feared it. He could sense an untapped potential in you, he'd seen similar before and it had never ended well.

He was adamant that he wouldn't let the same happen to you, even if it killed him.

"Come on Iris," Yeosang snaps you out of your thoughts, motioning to the stairs. "up you go."

Fatigue suddenly setting in, you gladly shuffle yourself up the stairs and collapse onto the bed face first.

"Move over, you lump." Yeosang whines, pushing you to the end of the bed, to which you respond with a pained groan. 

"You're so cruel!" you cry, sitting up and frowning at him. "You could've hurt me doing that!"

"If I wanted to hurt you," he raises an eyebrow at you. "you'd know about it."

You ignore his threat and turn your head around the room, surveying the simple, wooden decor; a tattered book shelf, a plain desk and accompanying chair, a few, worn and rusty storage chests and the bed Yeosang was currently lounging on.

"Yeosang," you pipe up, only just realising. "There's only one bed."

He pulls himself up, peering up at you through sleepy eyes.

"I don't care." he murmurs, flinging himself back down with a _thump_.

"Well, I do!" 

He brings himself back up slowly, like a vampire rising from his coffin after being awaken from a century long sleep. His eyes are half-closed and you think he might actually be asleep already.

"Then sleep on the floor."

"Why do you get the bed? That's not fair!"

"I'm older, I have more joint pain than you." he deadpans. "Also, I saved your life."

"You can't keep using that against me..." you grumble, but collect a few blankets from the bed and snatch them up, creating a make-shift bed on the floor. The wooden floor isn't exactly the height of comfort, but with a roof over your head and a crackling fire just downstairs, you can't really complain. 

Cuccooning yourself in the blankets, you try and fall asleep. But you find yourself staring at the ceiling, thinking of everything and nothing to the soundtrack of Yeosang's snoring. Your mind wanders to the stranger who owes Yeosang a favour, you wonder what his name is, what they look like. Yeosang had called them an 'outcast', like him, but also said he wasn't exactly a mage either. So you didn't know what to expect. Life kept throwing these things at you, probably to keep you on your toes. It was overwhelming, if you were being honest; having spent all of your life up until this point mainly fending for yourself and never venturing outside of the city you grew up in, to suddenly travelling across the country with a random, magic man who's beach you almost died on.

Your eyes grow heavier as you lose yourself in your thoughts, and you're almost grasped by the clutches of sleep, until an abrupt growling from outside whips your eyes open, and you bolt upright.

"Did you hear that?" you whisper to Yeosang.

"It's just a bear." He mumbles in response, making you jump slightly because you thought he was still asleep.

"A _bear?_ " you hiss.

"I know," he says sarcastically. "Un-bear-lieveable."

You retrieve one of your pillows and launch it at his figure, smirking triumphantly when he grunts in surprise.

"That was a terrible joke." you complain and bury yourself back into your improvised bed.

"Whatever," Yeosang yawns. "just go to sleep, we'll be meeting the astrologer tomorrow so you need to rest."

Finally deciding to listen to the mage, you squeeze your eyes shut tightly in hopes you'll fall asleep quickly. Luckily, you do just that, sleeping peacefully and dreaming about the bear just outside. He's wounded, bleeding heavily from a nasty gash on his neck and panting in pain. You reach out to help him, but of course it's just a dream; he'll be okay. You hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> any feedback, whether it be criticism or a nice comment, is always appreciated! thank u for taking the time out to read my silly little drabbles x


	10. ten

The next morning, you and Yeosang prepare yourselves for the final hurdle of your journey, the mage believing that you'll arrive just before sunset.

"Why can't you just teleport us there?" you ask him as you wolf down a bowl of porridge at the bar downstairs. "Or are you just trying to torture me?"

"It drains too much of my energy to move two people such a long distance," he explains. "There's a cost with magic."

You nod, finishing your breakfast as Yeosang double checks you haven't forgotten anything.

"What do you think happened to that bear?" you look around cautiously as you exit the tavern, scared that the beast will come lumbering around the corner and separate your head and your shoulders with ease like a mangled children's toy.

"I don't know," Yeosang shrugs. "somebody might've hunted it."

The mage's hypothesis does nothing to soothe your worries, still anxiously peering into the woods around you. You cast your mind back to your dream, remembering the image of the wounded bear, wanting nothing more to put your new mecidinal skills to use and patch him up. You have to keep reminding yourself that it was merely a dream, that the bear was fine and there was no gushing cut on his neck.

Still, you stay glued to Yeosang's side as he marches along the dirt path, ignoring your pleas to play another game to take your mind off the poor beast lurking in the forest.

More hours pass, consisting of nothing other than walking, except for Yeosang pausing momentarily to gather various plants along the side of the road. He spends countless minutes explaining the uses of hellebore petals, moleyarrow plants and nostrix leaves, tearing them apart and rubbing them between his fingers like they're spun from solid gold.

Of course you take no notice of what he's saying, which, of course he notices.

"These'll be on your next alchemy exam!" Yeosang declares. "Just to spite you for not listening to me!"

You huff and storm ahead of him, crossing your arms heavily to make a childish statement, which doesn't faze the mage in the slightest. Chuckling at your antics, he catches up to you and slings an arm around your shoulders.

"Awh, is little Iris sulking?" he teases you, and you press your lips together in an effort to completely ignore him.

He reaches round to poke your cheek, and you meet his ribcage with your elbow in response, smirking when you hear him exhale a small grunt of pain.

"I'm not sulking," you stick your tongue out at him. "Are we nearly there yet?"

Nursing his freshly bruised torso with a pout, he nods at you and points to his left with his free hand.

"See that tower?" he mumbles through the pain, and you nod when your eyesight lands on a pointed roof just on the horizon. "He lives there."

Seeing your destination within reach lifts your spirits back up, and you slap Yeosang on the back in encouragement, dismissing the way he doubles over and coughs into his knees.

"Hurry up, teach!" you call. "We've got an astrolomer to see!"

\-----

The home of the astrologer is more beautiful than you could ever have imagined. You're stood at the beginning of a winding, cobblestone path, which leads to a wooden door in the main building of the house. Comprised of stone bricks, the primary feature is the tower. Taller than you can comprehend, the tower is circular, a few arched windows dotted in place of the brick. The main building is square, and honestly it would look like a completely normal house if not for the gigantic spire connected to it.

Ivy meanders up the stone walls, growing out of an overwhelming amount of undergrowth surrounding the entire structure. The amount of greenery is stunning and you can feel the excitement radiating off of Yeosang at the sheer thought of how many rare plants could be hiding in all that foliage.

Looking up, you spot a faint orange glow in the very top window of the tower, and you suppose that your certain somebody must be home.

Yeosang leads you along the curved footpath, marvelling at the growths of flowers and ferns spread out throughout the astrologer's garden.

"I might have to borrow some of these petals when we leave..." Yeosang trails off, lightening flickering around his pupils uncontrollably.

You roll your eyes at him and lift an arm up to knock confidently on the door, but the mage lightly grabs your arm and pulls it back.

"Just go in," he instructs you. "If he's up in the tower he won't be able to hear you anyway."

"But that's rude!" you counter. "You can't just charge into somebodies house!"

"Why not? It's not like we mean any harm!"

"Well he doesn't know that, does h-"

" _Ahem_."

Lost in your bickering with Yeosang, neither you nor the mage notice the wooden door swing open, and you certainly don't notice the man standing on the other side.

And you're not sure _how_ you missed him, because you've never seen anyone as beautiful as him. Sure, Seonghwa, the kingsguard, was exeptionally handsome, but in a tall, dark way. And Yeosang was pretty, but in a soft, comforting way. But this stranger was something else, something entirely ethereal like he's stepped straight of a children's fairytale book. and you couldn't do anything except for stare at him, mouth agape from having your speech abruptly interrupted and being absolutely bewildered.

You scan over his face, and you're aware that he knows you're watching him, and he's aware that you're aware of that. But you _really_ don't care.

His hair is inky black, mirroring the night sky on a clear night and you've half a mind to run your fingers through it and see if you can map out the constellations within the strands.

"Can I help you?" the stranger speaks and your knees would've buckled if you weren't frozen to the spot, your mind completely boggled. You're embarrassed, to be frank. One person shouldn't have such an affect on you, but _he_ does and you don't know how to handle it.

"Hello!" you blurt. "Help?"

His eyes snap to you questioningly, and it's only then you notice the way they sparkle a gorgeous amethyst purple. You don't think he could get any better. The concern he's glaring at you with is outshined by how beautiful his everything is and you momentarily forget how much of a fool you look. That is, until Yeosang grabs you by the arm.

"Are you okay?" he asks. "You've gone really pale."

You keep your gaze fixed on the astrologer, whose overgrown, midnight black hair falls into his eyes when he moves forward a bit to get a closer glance at the mage.

"Yeosang?" the stranger says. "It's been so long!"

Like old friends, the stranger leaves the safety of his home and approaches Yeosang, giving you the opportunity to recollect yourself. But instead you continue to study him. From his side profile, you see he's got quite a big nose, high, slender cheekbones and the most heart-warming smile you've ever seen in your entire life. You can't see much else except the oddly pointed tip of his ear peeking out through his hair.

"This is Iris," Yeosang points the stranger towards you, and luckily you manage to pull yourself together enough to wave politely and utter a meek 'hello'.

He's dressed in a white shirt, quite similar to Yeosang's (do they all go to the same tailor?) and black, leather trousers. A few buttons on his shirt are undone, his collarbones exposed and glittering in the sun, and that's almost the final straw for your poor heart.

The astrologer extends a palm towards you, and grins widely, clearly having forgotten about your instantaneous, smitten demeanour. You notice a prominent freckle on one of his cheeks, and you can hear the sound of your heart shattering into a million pieces.

"Wooyoung," he shakes your palm firmly and you _swear_ you feel lightening shooting through your entire arm when your hands connect. "Jung Wooyoung."

"Nice to meet you, Wooyoung." you smile shyly.

"Likewise, Iris" he's still grinning down at you, but you avert your eyes nervously and you miss the crimson that seeps into his cheeks.

" _Anyway..._ " Yeosang rudely snaps you out of your daze, shooting you a confused look that you pretend not to notice. "We came to ask for your help, Wooyoung."

Wooyoung nods, motioning for the two of you to follow him into his house hurriedly. The main section of the building is very typical, stone brick walls and a cobblestone floor with some type of furred rug thrown over it. There's a lit hearth to your left, a large, wooden table and accompanying chairs, as well as a small designated area for cooking. The only thing remotely out of place is the bottom of a endless, spiralling staircase off to the right, which you assume led to the top of the tower.

You and Yeosang sit down at the table, watching Wooyoung bolt the door numerous times. From the handle all the way down to his feet, there's latches, locks and bolts littered down the door.

"Scared of a break-in?" you crack a joke, realising very quickly there's an element of truth to your poor attempt at humour.

"Something like that." Wooyoung nods grimly, and Yeosang glares at you, kicking you under the table as a warning to keep your mouth shut. After all, you still need to convince Wooyoung to help you, and you're definitely not helping.

Wooyoung turns to face you and Yeosang once he's finished locking the door. He smiles a little, resting his hands on his hips.

"What can I help you with?" he questions, directing his attention to Yeosang.

"We've run into a little... _predicament_ ," Yeosang explains through gritted teeth, side-eyeing you to hammer home the fact this entire thing is _your_ fault. Wooyoung follows Yeosang's death stare and stifles a laugh at the way you flush bright red, reclining further into the stiff back of the wooden chair. " _Somebody_ agreed to help King Hongjoong with matters we know little about."

"And what matters would those be?"

"Divination matters."

You expect Wooyoung to smirk, to nod straight away and agree to help you and an old friend. But instead, his face drops a mile, crossing his arms and a deep frown that doesn't suit him etches into his features.

"I'm sorry, 'Sang. I can't help you. It's too dan-"

"I know it's dangerous for you," Yeosang interrupts the astrologer, standing up from his seat at the table. "But the king'll protect you if you're on his side, you don't need to worry about that."

Wooyoungs's gaze narrows, and his nostrils flare outwards in anger.

"The king would kill me in a heartbeat, _mage_." Wooyoung spits harshly, his violet eyes laced with poison. "They'd sell my blood and display my ears like some kind of freak attraction fror wanderers all over the galaxy to come and gawk at, so _no_ , I don't quite think you _do_ know it's dangerous."

A moments silence passes between the mage and the astrologer and you can only sit, bewildered. You have no idea what happened to Wooyoung in the past, but it must be equally as dangerous for Yeosang too, especially as a mage?

"They're still after you, aren't they?" Yeosang asks quietly, flicking his gaze up to Wooyoung long enough to watch him nod solemnly.

"I've only been home for about a week," the astrologer whispers. "I was planning on leaving again tomorrow night, they keep managing to track me and I don't know how."

You sit on the chair, looking back and forth between the men and you're not sure what you're supposed to do. It's clear they're both thinking quietly to themselves, and your curiosity outweighs your reason, so you go for it.

"Who's tracking you?" you ask shamelessly. "And why? Are you a mage too, Wooyoung?"

Wooyoung keeps his lips sealed, looking at Yeosang nervously. They have a silent conversation, Yeosang's icy blue eyes boring into Wooyoung deep lavender ones until they finally reach a mutual conclusion.

He tucks his raven black locks behind his ears, drawing your attention to the unusually pointed tips. With the hair out of the way, you can see the glittering jewellery decorating his entire outer ear, all the way from the lobes up the shell. You also notice a scar, already healed but you can tell it was once a painful, angry red. The scar starts where the bottom of the lobe attaches to the face, and runs up to the forward helix. The longer you look, the quicker you realise just _why_ life is so dangerous for the astrologer.

"You're an elf, aren't you?" you breathe before Wooyoung can begin to explain.

You stand up, reaching out to gently glide your fingers across the scar, and you feel for him, you really do. You don't even know him and yet it's like every emotion he's ever felt in his entire life hits you in all one go.

He inhales sharply, moving back instintively and letting his fair fall back over his face like a curtain for him to hide behind.

"Yes," he confirms. "I'm Elven."

"The people that are tracking you," you ask hesitantly, after all, you've only just met the guy. "Did they give you that scar?"

There's a flash of bitterness in Wooyoung's eyes, a momentary lapse of rage and pent up, unresolved hurt and you regret asking.

"Yes." he repeats. "They would've done a lot worse to me. I was one of the lucky ones." His piercing gaze is locked onto Yeosang, and the mage wears an unreadable expression.

"We need your help, Wooyoung." Yeosang says suddenly. "You can bargain with Hongjoong for your safety, and we'll see to it that you're safe."

"I don't thin-"

"Please," you butt in the conversation. "If you play your cards right, you could get so much more from the King than you think. You can get eternal safety and protection from him just by offering him the tiniest piece of information that he needs."

The elf considers your words for a few seconds, scowling as he ponders every possible way you might be planning to trick him. His eyes flick between you and the mage as he thinks carefully. He knew Yeosang well enough to tell that his intentions were true and pure, but you complicated things slightly; he didn't know you at all. He had no idea where you came from, how you even met Yeosang, whether you could be trusted or not. Hell, he didn't even know if you were human. You intrigued him. There was something _off_ about you, but he couldn't quite figure it out. Yet on the other hand, he yearned for safety, wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by people who cared about him and offered him protection. He was tired of running for his life and dealing cards with danger at every turn.

"Before I agree, what exactly do you require from me?"

\-----

Yeosang had explained the entire situation to Wooyoung in minute detail, even including the day he found you lifeless on the beach, much to your embarrassment. He informed the elven astrologer about the prophecy and how no other in his field had managed to prove useful thus far.

"Then they're clearly not very good astrologers." Wooyoung sniffs, lifting his nose into the air proudly.

He had taken you both up the spiralled staircase to the top of the tower, where the majority of his work took place. The room was circular and dimly lit, but in a comfortable way. There was a huge, round window in the back wall with a telescope positioned in front of it, the scope itself aimed straight up into the clouds. Wooyoung's bed was pressed against the opposing wall, the blankets a mess and strewn half upon the floor. Papers were stuck to the wall and littered across every surface in the room, and stacks of books covered almost every inch of the stone floor.

Were all elves this messy?

"I wasn't expecting company..." Wooyoung motioned to the clutter with an embarrassed smile, trying his best to shove a wad of papers into his desk drawer.

"So what does an astrologer actually do?" you ask, studying the various drawings of planets and diagrams plastered all over his walls.

Wooyoung paces over to you and plucks one of them into his hands, turning it upside down and showing it to you.

"I study the stars and the planets, and relate their positions and relativity to how they affect the events that happen to us, in our world." he explains, and his violet eyes begin to glow with enthusiasm. "This one for example, you see that miniscule dot?"

He points to a tiny circle he'd drawn on the paper, and you nod.

"That's one of our moons, and because it is positioned exactly there, at an incredibly specific time, it caused a torrential storm down here on our planet."

"That's bullshit," you scoff in disbelief. "There's no way that something up in the sky can do something like that here."

"Is that so? Then maybe you'd like to explain why this diagram is dated the exact same day you washed up outside Yeosang's home? Just after a brutal storm, no less?" Wooyoung raises his eyebrows at you, challenging your logic and almost begging you to try and argue with him.

"It's merely a coincidence." you insist, crossing your arms and turning away from his smug smirk.

"Is she always this annoying?" He points his question to the mage who sighs at your bickering.

"I've told you Iris," Yeosang purposefully avoids the question and instead decides to lecture you. "There's no such thing as coincedences, everything is determined by fate, _especially_ when the stars and planets are involved."

You roll your eyes at him and decide to ignore the lesson.

"So will you help us or not?" you turn back to Wooyoung, who's evidently having an internal battle with himself.

He wants to help, he really does. Honestly, he'd like the company and it would give his work more purpose than it does when he's constantly on the run. Plus, he could try and bargain for protection from Hongjoong in return for his work.

The thought of even stepping through the Ateez kingdom walls makes his stomach churn.

"What about the witch hunters?" he asks quietly.

"You're not a witch, they won't care, will they?" you tilt your head slightly in confusion.

"They'll take anyone who isn't human or has even a single ounce of magic blood in them." Yeosang explains. "Especially elves."

"I'll take us directly into the castle, straight to Hongjoong. The bastards aren't allowed into the castle grounds unless they're requested, so we'll be okay." The mage reassures Wooyoung, who's standing there still looking unconvinced.

He looks at Yeosang, and then to you and the pleading expressions you're both wearing. He doesn't know what life'll be like for him once he was properly avoiding the people chasing him. He could be dead in a matter of days, truthfully.

"I'll need a few things before I get started." he sighs.

"You'll help us?" You grin, almost throwing your arms around him in a hug.

"Yes," he nods. "But I'm doing it for me, and to ensure my own protection. Not for you, understand?"

Yeosang nods. How could he have expected less from the reserved astrologer? It's a a miracle you even managed to convince him to help. But like he said, he was only doing it for the safety Hongjoong would have to give him for his work. Yeosang supposed he would probably do the same if he was in Wooyoung's shoes.

"I'll have to spend the next few days gathering things I need," Wooyoung says. "You're welcome to stay here, I have a guest room downstairs. Besides, there's information I'll need from you regarding the nature of the prophecy."

You let Wooyoung and Yeosang discuss the situation, pouring over the notes on the table, while you sit and watch the sunset through the giant window. Yeosang had been reluctant to show you or even tell you very much about the prophecy, claiming to protect you from such dangerous things. Which you thought was ridiculous, but you didn't want to argue with him, so you let it go.

Hopefully now with Wooyoung by your side, you'll be able to decipher the prophecy quickly, fix the whole mess you created and be on your way, back at Yeosang's shack complaining about how difficult alchemy is.

Hopefully.

_Proud of his skilled craftsmanship, he surveys his work with a smile; the second cog is complete, as is the third. There are more cogs yet to come, but the machine is coming together exactly as intended. He refers back to the blueprints, content that the process is progressing smoothly. Of course, something or some One could throw a spanner in the works at any moment. But he's prepared. After all, One must be ready for anything, and everything all at once, whether it be planned or not._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed my lovlies xx  
> i was so excited for this chapter because i am so unbelievably whipped for wooyoung and also!!!!!! elven wooyoung is something i didnt know i needed


	11. eleven

Three days had passed in Wooyoung's company.

And you had to admit, your affections for the Elven mage were growing. Quickly.

The past evenings had consisted mainly of Wooyoung and Yeosang plotting in the tower, while you sat idley by and attempted to help to no avail. It was really beginning to frustrate you now; how the mage would constantly remind you how it was your fault, yet he wouldn't let you help them.

They had both insisted it was 'too dangerous for a young girl to get involved in', as if anything about your lifestyle was remotely safe.

You had argued with Yeosang on the second evening, demanding that they let you get involved, that you might be able to provide something useful. But they had once again dismissed you, telling you that even if they did tell you, you wouldn't understand it anyway. 

So you spent your evenings outside, plucking flowers and knotting them together until the sun disappears and the petals become as dark as Wooyoung's hair.

You sigh and throw yourself back down onto the grass, exhaling heavily in irritation.

All you wanted to do was help, to suggest something that could be important. And the fact they won't let you just because you're a girl was ridiculous. If they blamed it on the fact they were more educated on the stars or whatever, you'd probably understand more. But because you're not a male?

Ludicrous.

You lay there, staring up at the sky and stewing in your emotions until finally, your aggravation finally gets the best of you, and you fly upright, charging up the stairs of the tower and bursting into Wooyoung's room, where you find the mage and the astrologer deep in discussion.

"I want to help." you declare, hands on your hips as you watch Yeosang roll his eyes at you.

"Iris, we told yo-"

"I don't care, Yeosang." you snap, Wooyoung's eyes widening a little in shock. "I'm tired of you pushing me aside! I want to help you. Isn't this my fault in the first place?"

"Well yes bu-"

"Then let me help, for goodness sake!"

Yeosang stands frozen, taken aback by your sudden outburst. Were you really that mad at him?

"Okay, fine. You can help." Wooyoung shrugs.

"Wooy-"

"What? She wants to help, let her help."

Wooyoung motions you over to the table littered with parchments, while Yeosang recovers from being interrupted once again. If the mage had known how adamant you were on assisting them, he would've let you. 

He had promised himself, the day he found you half-dead on the beach and decided to take you under his wing, that he would do his best to protect you, even if it killed him. He simply couldn't live with himself if he had yet more blood on his hands. But he knew that you were a force to be reckoned with, determined as you were stubborn. Maybe keeping you in the dark would have worse concequences than letting you help.

Yeosang joins the two of you at the table, opting to stay silent as Wooyoung gathers together the diagrams and papers they had been deciphering for hours.

"Yeosang and I have been studying all relevant constellations from the important dates noted in the prophecy," Wooyoung begins, his serious expression constrasted by the way his amethyst eyes light up with passion whenever he talks about the stars. "And the first mentioned date, many, many moons ago, is the first time the Monster in the prophecy attempts to destroy the kingdom."

"Monster?" you echo. "I thought it was just a man?"

"The writings describe him in many ways; monster, beast, man." Yeosang explains. "There's hardly a difference between them."

"Constellation wise," the elf continues. "the single most prevalent form is that of Ara. You are familiar, yes?"

Wooyoung takes your wide-eyed silence in the negative.

"Ara is a constellation named after the altar where the gods formed an alliance before entering war with the Titans."

"Okay.." you trail off, not quite sure how that relates to any of your situation. "And what does that mean for us?"

Wooyoung bites his lip, glancing towards Yeosang before settling his gaze back on you.

"It could possibly indicate a war between Ateez and another kingdom. For what reason, I'm yet to discover."

"A _war!?"_ you shriek, and both Yeosang and Wooyoung place a hand on each of your shoulders to calm you down.

"It's not certain!" Wooyoung tries to reassure you, but he falls on deaf ears.

"I can't fight in a war!" you cry. "I don't know any combat, I don't know any magic! I'm going to die!"

Yeosang grabs you tightly at arms length, leaning down a little to match your line of sight.

"You won't die in a war, Iris!" Yeosang explodes, ignoring the concern on the elven man's face. "We won't let you, _I_ won't let you. Understand?" 

You nod, Yeosang's direct (and slightly harshly toned) claim settling your nerves for the time being. Perhaps it's time to pester him again about teaching you some magic. 

Yeosang redirects your attention back to the astrologer, who is holding a new set of pictures and messy scrawlings.

"The second constellation I noted was that of Cetus, which was present on a different occasion where the monsterous being turned up to wreak havoc on Ateez. Cetus was also present recently, specifically on the date where you washed up on Yeosang's beach after a nasty storm."

"And what does Cetus have to do with the storm?" you ask.

"In mythology, Cetus was some kind of sea monster," Wooyoung explains, and you have to hide your awe at how much knowledge one person could have. "Typically described as a serpent, whale, shark, what-have-you, Cetus was sent by Poseidon to punish Queen Cassiopeia and her daughter Andromeda for boasting that they were far more beautiful than the Nereids, or sea nymphs."

"So, we think there's a high chance that a sea monster of our own was released during the storm we had not so long ago." Yeosang informs you, you heart sinking as the danger only rises.

"A war _and_ a sea monster?" your voice increases in pitch, your panic once again growing rapidly.

"The monster is probably dead," Wooyoung reasons. "The storm threw you about as it was, it's a miracle you survived, to be honest."

Not wanting to dwell on the fact the astrologer just told you that you shouldn't be alive, you ask him if there's any other constellations of any significance.

"On the same day as the storm, not far from Cetus, I just managed to make out the faintest Libra, just to the north of it. As a result, I took a look at when Libra is next supposed to shine the brightest, and it's predicted to be relatively soon. Within the next month or so."

"That's great," you reply sarcastically. "But what does Libra mean? We aren't all star experts, you know."

Wooyoung blushes deeply, crimson burning his ears as he smiles sheepishly at you.

"Libra represents the scales held by Dike (dai-ki), the goddess of justice and moral order. It could indicate some injustice that will occur between then and now, or something similar. Of course, none of this is absolutely guranteed," Wooyoung reminds you. "I simply read the stars, take their meaning and theorise about what they may mean to us."

"Well, your theories seem pretty realistic to me." you mutter mockingly. "I'm not buying any of this nonsense."

"I haven't been wrong about a single hypothesis yet." Wooyoung's tone turns cold, and his gaze on you narrows. He understands that this might be overwhelming, but it doesn't give you the right to insult his life's work. He devotes every waking moment to this, and he will not let some _girl_ diminish everything he's built up. And sure, he's beginning to warm up to you, finding the way you gently pluck the flowers in his garden and fashion jewellery out of them rather endearing. He'd never admit that to you, or to himself, but slandering the only constant in his life? He won't allow it.

"Besides," he adds on. "You insisted on getting involved, so show some respect, or get out of my house." Wooyoung snarls, violet eyes radiating venomously as he glowers angrily at you.

You shift your stare down to the ground, guilt and embarrasment washing over you like a harsh ocean wave. 

"I'm sorry." you squeak, not daring to look up into his piercing, purple eyes.

"I also decided to check the constellations from the night you both arrived." Wooyoung says tightly, dismissing your brief argument and continuing on as smoothly as he good. "The only one that stood out to me was Ursa Major, although I am still unsure of what it means, if anything at all."

"What's Ursa Major?" you question.

"The Big Bear," the astrologer answers immediately. "I doubt either of you are secretly bears, so I'm assuming it has zero relevance."

"I heard a bear at the inn we stayed at the night before we arrived here." You blurt out hurridly, not catching the way Yeosang's eyes roll back into this skull. "Then I dreamt that the bear was attacked... I was worried he died."

"And I told you it was exactly that," Yeosang interrupts you with a huff. "A _dream_."

Wooyoung glances between the two of you, pouting and scratching the pointed tip of his ear in thought.

"Have you ever considered visiting an oneiromancer?" Wooyoung asks seriously, breaking the silence and causing Yeosang to scoff.

"Oneiromancy is a myth," the mage scowls. "Just a bunch of made-up bullshit in an attempt to earn some coin."

"Is anybody going to explain to me what ironmancy is?" you speak up, crossing your arms in annoyance; why do they always have to talk about subjects you don't understand?

"Oneiromancy ( _on-eye-ro-man-see_ )," Wooyoung corrects your pronounciation, stifling a small smile. "Is a form of divination using dreams to predict the future. The divination I do uses the stars, Oneiromancers interpret your dreams."

"So, my dream might actually come true?" you gasp, your eyes flying wide open.

"No." Yeosang growls.

"What's your beef with dream interpreters?" The elf teases the mage, who is leering at him with irritance.

"Nothing." Yeosang replies sternly. "I just think it's a bunch of bullshit."

"One could say the same about your strange plant addiction."

"It's not an addiction! I require an _extremely_ extensive knowledge in order to carry on my work!"

"That sounds like something somebody with an addiction to plants would say."

"Listen here, _elf_ -"

"Uh, guys? I hate to break up your lover's quarrel but... who are they?" you put their arguing to an abrupt halt, collecting their attention to where you're standing before the giant window in Wooyoung's tower.

There's a faint glow, just over the hills behind the astrologer's home. It burns a radiant orange, and all three of you know that it's definitely not the sunset.

" _Shit_." Wooyoung curses aloud. "They found me."

"Who are they?"

"Bad people, Iris." Yeosang grabs you and yanks you away from the window, motioning to the paper strewn throughout the room. "Pick up what you can, we'll need almost all of it."

The next few minutes are spent frantically stuffing loose parchments into pockets, bags, anything the three of you can find that you can carry. You grab handfuls of diagrams and shove them into the pockets of your trousers, even rolling a few up and tucking them into the soles of your boots.

By the time you've gathered as much of the work you can, you quickly glance out the window to scope out where the bad people are. Every single one of your organs drops to the floor, as you notice the gang of torch-wielders are marching up Wooyoung's front garden, trampling and burning the flowers and ferns you played in just hours before.

"We need to leave. _Now_."

You quickly scan the room, eyes darting left and right to try and spot something you might've missed. You see it abandoned on Wooyoung's bed, and you dart out rapidly to retrieve it. Clutching it against your chest, you hear the thunderous stamping of the mob charging up the stairs, mirroring the pounding of your heart against your ribcage.

Yeosang bundles you and Wooyoung in his arms, gripping you both tightly as he breathes in deeply. Your nose is pressed against the elf's chest, and in any other situation you would be blushing furiously. But right now, you're terrified for your life. For Yeosang's life, for Wooyoung's life. And in any other situation you would've slapped the elf for the way his arm winds around your waist to shuffle you into their man-made cage. But ironically, you feel safer than you've ever felt in your entire life.

"Close your eyes," Yeosang mumbles. "It's gonna be a harsh landing."

You and Wooyoung screw your eyes shut tightly, and you bunch his shirt up in your hands so there's zero chance of you getting separated.

There's no human words you can summon to describe how it feels to teleport. Both feeling as light a feather, but also feeling like iron weights have been fused to your ankles. You're both present and absent at the same time. Simultaneously existing, yet one inch, one misstep away from disappearing forever. It both passes in a second, and drags on for eternity. Your mere consciousness physically cannot comprehend such an experience. 

What you can describe however, is the instant pain that shoots through your body upon impact. Yeosang's teleportation hurling you onto the ground, your arm trapped behind you, bent at an awkward angle, while both you and your poor arm are crushed by Wooyoung's entire frame landing on top of you.

,You could describe it very well, given the chance, but you think a simple 'owch.' will suffice.

"Wooyoung," you grunt and attempt to push him off you using your free hand. "Get off me."

He apologises quickly, rolling onto the grass and standing up. He offers a hand out to you which you accept, brushing the dirt off your clothes. Looking around you, you realise you're in a very familiar garden.

"Hey, Yeosang! We're hom-"

The smell of burning smoke and the sound of crackling flames hits you all in one go, and you're scared to turn around.

"Oh my god..." You hear Wooyoung whisper behind you, and the dread weighs down on you like a tonne of bricks.

Slowly, you turn around and the sight before you twists your stomach into knots.

Yeosang's home- your home- is entirely consumed by raging fire. The blaze has crept up the trunk of the tree, destroying the heart of the house directly. The flames lick at the walls and have already destroyed the majority of the roof. You can see into Yeosang's study, the aqua flourescent room now glowing a fiery orange, plunging the once ocean-like room into the deepest depths of hell.

Yeosang himself is stood in front of you, just off to the side, and looking at his eyes you can see the inferno reflecting in his tears. You've never seen anyone so broken.

"Yeosang, I'm so sorry-" Wooyoung begins to apologise, but the mage cuts him off before he can finish.

"It wasn't them," he cries, voice hoarse and cracking with despair and rage. "It- It wasn't the same people after you."

"Then who was it?" you wonder quietly.

But neither Wooyoung or Yeosang get to answer your question, as the culprits make themselves known. Barreling through the woods surrounding the house, swords drawn, grinning evilly at you. They form a circle around you, forcing the three of your backs to collide as you're stood defenseless.

"Well, well, well." One of them sneers. "Look what the cat dragged in." He slowly walks around you, smirking smugly at the way he's trapped you all. He's got dark, black hair, almost as long as Wooyoung's but styled much more neatly. Parted in the middle and flowing down into soft waves. You'd compare him visually to an angel, but underneath his innocent exterior lies something much, much more sinister.

"What are you doing here, J-"

"Don't even think about speaking my name, _mage_." The man seethes. "Besides, it's Commander to you."

"Alright, _Commander_ ," Yeosang finds the energy within him to mock the stranger, and you can't help but giggle. "Why are you here?"

"You see, it has been brought to my attention that there was _magic_ present in these neck of the woods," The stranger's grin widens wickedly, eyeing the way Yeosang's jaw tightens with fury. "And I'm sure you agree, _that simply will not do._ "

"So your solution was to burn a man's house down?!" Wooyoung bursts angrily, flinching a little when the man's gaze burns into his own.

"Oh? What's this?" He approaches Wooyoung in a fascinated trance, tilting his head slightly as he examines the elven features. He places the tip of his sword against Wooyoung's jaw, exerting just enough pressure to force his head to the side and exposing pointed ears that were raging red in humiliation. "An _elf?_ " His voice raises an octace from excitement, something that chills you to the bone.

"I can do so much worse than burn a man's house down." The stranger's previous, eerily calm demeanour is gone, as he dangerously leans in to Wooyoung's face, teeth gritted and black eyes pulsing with hatred. " _Believe me._ "

You're trembling with fear, the panic running through you that this could be the end of the road for you. This unknown villian turning up out of the blue with his gang of stupid merry men might kill you right this very second and snap shut the book containing the story that is your life. This could be your destined demise.

Yeosang though, has other plans.

In your frightened inner rambling, you don't notice his hand tighten around yours from behind your back. And from your position you certainly don't notice the way brilliant white bolts flash around his pupils, or the yellow sparks that shoot through his arms and neck like lightning during a storm.

"I've had enough of indulging your questions." The stranger sniffs, backing away from Wooyoung with a final, repulsed leer. 

"Boys," he meanders back over to where he climbed out of the thicket, holstering his sword at the hip and looking dead into your eyes with a bored expression. "Kill them."

The band of men (you guess there's around eleven of them, but with the anxiety settling in, you could be seeing double) close in on the three of you, like a pack of ravenous wolves stealthily hunting down a tiny, vulnerable rabbit. 

You feel the wind rush past your face, the down-swing of a sharp sword being aimed at your face, but it doesn't make contact with you.

Instead, you're momentarily weightless, floating through the stars, the planets and the worlds between you and the furthest reaches of the galaxy. 

In the same breath, you make contact with a hard, wooden floor, groaning in pain as the three of you land in a painful, crumpled heap. Nursing your head, you survey the room, jumping out of your skin when a shriek pierces your ears.

"How many times do I have to tell you people to _knock?!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously i am not an expert on the stars so pls be gentle if any of this is wrong hehehe,, hope u enjoyed it


	12. twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> firstly, i apologise that this took SO long to get out!!! life has been super duper consuming this past month (and will continue to be this way for a while), so I haven't had much time to sit down and write. however, here is chapter twelve, and i hope you enjoy it!  
> (also i havent really checked for errors or anything so pls ignore those lmao)

Seonghwa was _not_ impressed at your sudden arrival, dropping the book in his hands and creasing his immaculate black uniform as he jumped back in fright.

"What are you _doing!?_ " He screeched at the three of you, a clumsy pile of limbs on the floor of his study. In fact, he had screamed so loudly that the king himself came barreling through the doors with panic written all over his face. 

"Oh." Hongjoong rolls his eyes at the sight of you, Wooyoung and Yeosang clambering over each other like an energetic litter of puppies. "It's you."

"Nice to see you too, your majesty." Yeosang mocks, managing to escape from the cluster of bodies and stand up, brushing dirt and dust from his clothes whilst you try and wrestle Wooyoung off you.

"Can you explain why you've just... _appeared_ in my office!?" Seonghwa shrieks. He's clutching at his chest, eyes still blown wide in fright. So much for the intimidating kingsguard you know and love.

Yeosang sighs and runs a hand over his face, up through his platinum hair before he settles for picking the dirt from underneath his fingernails. Something he only does when he's stressed, you've noticed. His eyes, shocking cobalt blue flicker between You and Wooyoung (now standing), Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

Why was he so nervous?

"We ran into a spot of trouble," The mage begins to explain, avoiding the steely gaze of the king. "Wooyoung here, our astrologer, was already targeted by a bunch of witch hunters when we recruited his help. We managed around a week or so of work on the prophecy-"

"Where?" Hongjoong barks. "This pathetic tale of woe means nothing to me unless you provide any evidence, mage. That is what i employed you to do, after all."

Yeosang flushes a furious red and anger flashes up inside you. People spoke to the mage in any manner they fancies, and Yeosang had never let it bother him, until now. You'd never seen him like this; shoulders hunched in humiliation, eyes darting across the room nervously as he plays with his fingers and the hem of his shirt.

You hated it.

But you say nothing, instead keeping your mouth quiet and gently grasping the sleeve of Wooyoung's white, billowy shirt and watching Yeosang embarrass himself in front of the king.

"We were attacked, twice." The elf speaks up. "We gathered as much work as we could before we left my home, but we were ambushed at Yeosang's house too."

"Ambushed?" The king echoed. "By whom?"

"We'll talk about that later," Yeosang mutters, throwing a look in your direction which thankfully, you don't catch. "I apologise for disturbing you at the castle, but this was the first place I could think of where would be safe."

Yeosang looks over to Seonghwa, who had regained his physical composure, but still looked a little spooked in the eyes.

Hongjoong stood before you, glaring between the three of you as he thought over his options.

"Let me examine the work you've done so far." He demands suddenly. "Then I shall decide what to do with you."

"What about me?" You pipe up, correct in your assumption that there's absolutely no way the king would let you help.

He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. "Explore the castle, the grounds, whatever, I don't care. Just don't make a mess or disturb my staff."

After retrieving all the wads and rolls of parchments from your pockets and socks, Hongjoong leads Yeosang, Seonghwa and Wooyoung out of the office and down the hall, presumably to his own study upstairs. 

You figure that perhaps the gardens would be a good place to look around. Maybe you'd find Hongjoong's queen wandering amoungst the flowers, barefoot and clad in a snowy, flowing dress. Or maybe your own royal fantasies were merging too much with reality. You didn't even know if Hongjoong _had_ a queen. You doubt that anybody would be able to put up with his obnoxious, bossy personality, let alone marry him.

Still, you skip down the steps and stroll mindlessly throughout the castle trying to find a door that leads you outside. Eventually, you come across the kitchen, where you find somebody ransacking the contents of the cupboards.

"Are you a thief?" You ask loudly, scaring the burglar in the process, who ends up dropping the loaf of bread he was attempting to stuff up his shirt.

"No!" He declares, and whips around to plead his innocence. "I work here!"

He's a giant, lanky young man, with a cloud of red hair covering most of his eyes. His pointy nose and plush lips are gentle and youthful , a total opposite to his sheer height and narrow eyes.

"If you work here, why are you stealing?" 

"I was hungry." He pouts, dropping his shoulders a little in the shame of being caught.

"I won't tell if you share." You offer, which he immediately accepts, tearing the loaf in half and handing it out to you from one of his massive hands.

"I'm Mingi by the way," he says through a mouthful of bread, spraying crumbs all over the kitchen tiles. "I'm the king's bard."

"Iris." you reply simply, and take a bite out of your own hunk of bread. "You're a bard? What's that?"

Mingi strides past you, out of the kitchen and back the way you came in and you decide you have no other choice but to follow him like a lost child.

He turns left and shoves a slightly ajar wooden door open with the sole of his freshly polished boot, flying down the steps and you have a hard time keeping up with him.

"I entertain the king's guests," he explains as he takes you down more stairs. "Balls, parties, celebrations, I simply play the lute and sing for the people."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Mingi blushes almost as deep a red as his hair and stops at a huge, iron gate.

"I'm not a very good singer, so I tried another technique, where I speak words incredibly fast but keeping to a rhythm and a beat. But the king doesn't allow me to do it in company, so I just stick to the lute."

"What do you call this... speaking very fast technique?" you question.

The bard's eyes light up at your reply, the poor boy not used to somebody taking interest in his passion.

"I call it rapping!" he grins. "It's a name in progress, though!" you can't help but reciprocate Mingi's wide smile, finding his child-like excitement endearing.

He unlatches the gate and motions for you to go ahead, shutting the gate behind him and pointing towards the gorgeous gardens in front of you. 

"This garden is the king's pride and joy," Mingi says. You reach out brush your fingers against flowers and foliage that you've never seen before. Sunny yellows and ocean blues stretch out as far as your eyes can see, with lush greens entwined within each and and every pot and planter in the area. He leads you to the center of the garden, to a circular planter filled to the brim with icy white and soft pink flowers.

"These are carnations," he says gently. "after the king's mother died, he ordered the gardener to plant an entire box full of them."

"It's very beautiful." you nod.

"Carnations, particularly pink ones, symbolize a mother's love. And the white ones mean innocence and pure love." Mingi smiles warmly. "Nobody loved the queen as much as her only son, her death struck him terribly."

You could only find it in you to nod again. The sudden impact of the hidden, emotional meaning behind the centerpiece weighing down on you heavily. A mother's love is entirely different from any other feeling in the world, you guessed.

"The first winter after the king had them planted, we expected the flowers to die as a result of the harsh weather, but they didn't. In fact, these petals are the same as when they were planted all those years ago. The king would never admit it to anyone, but he thinks her love is still present in the castle, and it radiates so strongly it refuses to let the flowers die."

"What do you think?" you ask quietly. Mingi looks up at you from his crouching position by the planter.

"It doesn't matter what I think. It gives the king great comfort, so who am I to challenge that?"

"Yeah," you frown. "You're right."

"Iris! There you are! I've been looking for you for ages!" You snap your attention to the gate and see Wooyoung charging towards you, waving his arm so frantically that you think it might tear off.

Wooyoung stands beside you, about to reach out to clasp your shoulder before he notices Mingi's crouched figure on the ground.

"Who are you?" The elf asks, in an almost protective way.

The bard stands up, displaying his much bigger height advantage over the two of you, and you stifle a laugh as you feel Wooyoung shrink beside you.

But the innocent Mingi offers his hand out to the astrologer and bursts out his kindly smile.

"I'm Mingi!" He and Wooyoung shake hands briefly, Wooyoung taken aback from the bard's warm demeanor. "I'd best go, I have lute practice soon and the king would have my head if I missed it again, he doesn't really approve of San and I stealing his swords and playfighting with them, _especially_ when I have lute practice... See you later!"

The tall red-head rushes off up the cobbled path towards the gate, and you watch him hurtle back up the castle steps before he disappears inside completely.

"Watch out for him," Wooyoung sniffs. "I don't like the way he looks at you."

"Looks at me?" you scoff. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"He- He looks at you like you're a piece of meat."

"No he does not!" you splutter, feeling the heat rise up on your cheeks. "Besides, even if he did it has nothing to do with you, Wooyoung!"

You manage to keep your glare fixed on him, shocked and somewhat mortified that he brought that up with you. His amethyst eyes burn into your own and there's silence between you for a few, long moments. He's the first to break eye contact, glancing towards the castle with his tongue in his cheek, before he turns back to you with a new found air of calm.

"I came to tell you that Hongjoong is letting us stay here, in the castle while we finish conducting our research."

"Really?! That's great-"

"The only problem is," Wooyoung interrupts you. "There's only two rooms available, and Yeosang called dibs on the single."

"What does that mean, Wooyoung?" you demand dangerously, gritting your teeth and balling your fists, because if he says what you think he's about to say then-

"We have to share a room."

Gods help you.

"Please tell me... _please_ tell me there are two beds."

"What? Yes of course there's two beds."

"Great!" you yell sarcastically. "Any other wonderful news you have to tell me?"

"Yes actually, there is one more thing."

"And what would that be?"

"Hongjoong says that because we're technically residents of the castle for the foreseeable future, we have to attend the ball in a few weeks time."

"Attend the _what_!?"

\-----

"The Ball?" Hongjoong repeats cooly, "What about it?"

"I refuse to attend." You turn your nose up at him, having barged into his private quarters with Wooyoung trailing behind you, nursing a bleeding nose (courtesy of yours truly).

"I'm afraid you simply have no choice, Iris." The king sighs and shrugs on his tawny furred coat. "It's _my_ Ball, you live in _my_ castle, so I decide who attends, and who doesn't. Do I make myself clear?"

"But-"

"I said, Do I make myself clear?" Hongjoong's knees are bent slightly so he's directly face to face with you and his tone replicates that of an adult talking to a child they've just caught misbehaving.

You stay quiet, keeping your mouth closed and shooting Hongjoong an angry stare instead.

"Good." He says patronisingly, even ruffling your hair before he casually exits the room.

"Maybe the Ball will be fun?" Wooyoung tries, shrugging a little and keeping a distance from you, the dull ache in his nose a stark reminder not to piss you off anymore.

"I doubt it." you sigh, and with a final huff, you too march out of the room and make a beeline for the garden you and Mingi were sat in earlier in the day.

To the same garden that occupied your thoughts as you lay awake in bed that night, Wooyoung's deep breathing on the other side of the room. You couldn't get the image of a heartbroken, young Hongjoong out of your mind. You imagined him ordering the gardener around, organising his own pattern of pink and white carnations the exact way he wanted in order to commemorate his late mother.

At times, you didn't know what to make of Hongjoong and his hot and cold personality; he could be incredibly harsh and unforgiving, but kind and merciful in the same breath, and it was confusing. But you supposed even the most cruel people could still feel love. You wondered if Mingi had ever loved anyone. A girlfriend? His music? The people that he worked with? After all, there are many different types of love; romantic, familial, platonic, the list goes on. And what about Yeosang? Did he have parents who showered him with affection? Was he married before he became a recluse in his stunning little shack? Did everybody feel love?

"Wooyoung?" you blurt out suddenly in the darkness.

"Yes?" He replies almost immediately, making you jump in your skin.

"Have you ever felt love?"

The elf remains silent for a few moments before speaking, and you hear him turn over onto his side to face you.

"Once. I was in love, and I thought they were in love with me too."

"You thought?" you whisper.

"Yes. It turned out they had used me for my skills, for my work. It was so long ago now that I can hardly remember, but we lived together in a kingdom not too far from here. One morning, I woke up to find they were gone. No note, no hint as to where they might be. So I waited. I waited and waited for them to return for weeks."

"And then what happened?" You voice had reduced to barely a whisper, speaking so lightly as if even the quietest of sounds could shatter the heavy air in the room.

"About a month or so after they had disappeared, the kingdom guards tried to arrest me. They had turned me in to them, claiming that I was plotting against the kingdom, and of course all they had to do was to take one look at an elf and that was enough grounds to declare me guilty." You caught the way Wooyoung's voice cracked at he finished his sentence, and you felt your own heart shatter.

"I'm so sorry, Woo. That's awful."

"It was so long ago now, but the pain doesn't disappear, it just gets easier to deal with."

After a few moments deliberating, you slip out of bed and pad over to Wooyoung's. 

"Are you okay?" you ask him gently.

"I'm fine." He replies dryly, but you don't miss the sniffle or the tear rolling down his cheek and how it glistens in the moonlight filtering in through the window.

Which is why you shove lightly at his shoulder to make him move over, and you crawl in beside him. You wrap your arms around his torso and bury your face into his chest. He freezes momentarily, before pulling you close and frowning into your hair.

"Don't get used to this." You deadpan. "I'm only doing this because you're sad."

Wooyoung chuckles and you can feel it rumble in his chest against your head. The two of you lay in silence and admittedly, it's _nice_. He exudes a warmth and a comfort you hadn't noticed before now, and the way his hand lays gently on the back of your head is soothing. It breaks your heart how somebody could have their entire world destroyed and still show compassion and affection.

"What about you?" The elf whispers softly. "Have you ever felt love?"

You shake your head.

"No. I hadn't really been shown kindness either, up until I met Yeosang."

"What about your parents?"

"I-" You inhale deeply and screw your eyes shut; you hadn't told anybody about your previous life, who you used to be. In a way, you liked the separation between the two different versions of you. This one was worth something, actually meant something to people whilst the older version of you was just... _there_.

"I didn't know my parents." You answer. "I grew up in an orphange, and I would steal from the local market in order to survive."

Wooyoung says nothing, just lays there running his palm up and down your back.

"That was how I ended up here, actually. I got caught stealing, and my only option was to get in a boat and row off as far as I could. Then I ran into that giant storm and- well, you know the rest."

"Does Yeosang know this?"

You shake your head once more.

"I didn't want him to think less of me, for doing the things I did. I- I have a purpose thanks to him, I don't want to let him down and show him I'm less than what I am now." Tears threaten to pour out of your eyes, so you bury your face deeper into Wooyoung's shirt.

"He wouldn't think any less of you for that, Iris. I'm sure of it. He cares a great deal about you, you know. I think he'd rather give his own life over yours." The elf begins to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear over and over again, creating a calming pattern that makes your eyes slide closed.

"Go to sleep," he whispers. "You must be exhausted."

And so you do, feeling the most loved you've ever felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mingi literally created rapping you heard it here first folks.


	13. thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my loves!!!!   
> i am so sorry that this took so darn long,, but a lot has happened in the last month!  
> i started university! so as you can imagine it is very time consuming,, but i finally managed to finish this and finally here i am posting it!  
> as always, thank you so much for reading!

The next morning, Hongjoong called you, Yeosang and Wooyoung into his office to discuss your temporary residence. He had stood before you, like a teacher lecturing his naughty students and informed you that under no circumstances were any of you to perform magic.

Easy for you, you thought. You didn't even know how to use it.

"Witch hunters will be able to trace you if they detect any magical source coming from the kingdom," The king explained. "If there is rumour of any magic beings within my court, the other kingdoms will pick up on it immediately, and it will result in bloodshed."

The way Hongjoong had looked at the three of you as he instructed you was terrifying. It was bordering on begging, and deeper behind his golden eyes he looked frightened. And you supposed you would be too, if you had to go to war for such a ridiculous reason.

You could barely comprehend the thought of Yeosang and Wooyoung being killed just because they were non-human. It made it worse how they insisted it was okay because they were 'used to it', as if that justified anything.

Still, they complied to the king's request and agreed to not use any magic within the kingdom, especially in the castle and the grounds.

"We've managed to cover up your appearance here yesterday, so you don't need to be concerned about that. However, I am half tempted to charge you for causing emotional damage to my kingsguard. You gave him quite the fright."

You stifled a laugh at hearing the extent of Seonghwa's reaction to your intrusion, the scary kingsguard perhaps being much softer in demeanour than you had initially thought. 

After the briefing, Hongjoong had dismissed you to once again talk over the prophecy with Yeosang and Wooyoung.

The astrologer had informed you that they were making steady progress, they had deciphered some of the constellation meanings and were working on how to avoid the outcomes of their predictions.

"It's very easy to avoid a war," Wooyoung had scoffed that morning whilst tying up his boot laces. "We needn't worry about the Ara constellation because we simply just do not engage in a war."

"But what if somebody goes to war with us?" You asked timidly, staring nervously at the floor.

Wooyoung paced over to you and gently raised your chin with the tip of his finger.

"We won't go to war, Iris. Nobody has any reason to go to war with us. Besides, you'd probably be more worried about the Ball than fighting in a battle."

He had ruffled your hair and swiftly left the room, leaving you gazing at the ceiling with a feeling in your chest you couldn't quite understand. Something had changed with you and Wooyoung recently; he'd been standing closer to you than usual, smiling at you more, being kinder than he used to and truthfully you had no idea what to make of it.

You thought that maybe he felt more comfortable in your presence considering you had to share a room with him.

But that didn't excuse the way your heart raced and stomach fluttered whenever he would flash his killer smile at you or whined like a puppy when you refused to share any of the cook's baked treats with him.

Your current course of action was to completely ignore every single one of those feelings. Either that or take a visit to Yunho and get him to perform a medical examination on you, because you were absolutely convinced you were dying slowly from the inside out. Had some kind of magical parasite burrowed into your skin while you slept and had gradually been sucking the life out of you without you noticing? Or maybe some evil witch had snuck into the kitchens, managed to figure out which delicious looking apple you had been eyeing up the previous afternoon, poison it and cackle mysteriously as she watched you take a giant bite of the apple through the window?

Or perhaps you had been reading too many fairytales and storybooks.

That was probably it.

Yet, you couldn't help yourself. Not when Hongjoong's castle had such a beautiful library, full to the brim with all ranges of books. Even though there was such an extensive selection, immediately you were drawn to the wonderfully illustrated tales of woeful princesses stuck in their towers, powerful dragons aiming to conquer worlds and daring wizards yearning for adventure. 

You had yet to find a book about an angry king and his weak-hearted kingsguard, but you didn't really need to read a fictional account to experience that. 

It wasn't like you had much to do either; the ball was still a few weeks away and you still weren't allowed to help Yeosang and Wooyoung with the prophecy under Hongjoong's guidance. You saw less and less of Mingi as his lute practice was being upped due to the fast-approaching ball. So you spent most of your days holed up in the corner of the typically empty library.

In fact, that was exactly what you planned on spending the whole day doing. 

You raced down the intricately decorated hallways of the castle, brushing your fingertips against the crimson velvet sashes that hung from ceiling to floor. Sunlight filtered in gently through the stained-glass windows, leaving rainbow shards on the plush rugs underneath your boots. In time, you're outside the familiar library door, a much cooler shade of oak than the other doors in this hallway, you notice. It's smoother to the touch too, like whoever designed this room centuries ago took special care in it's creation.

Pushing the door open, you enter the library. The scent is slightly dusty, with a lingering smell of untouched parchment and slowly decaying leather. The room itself is huge, bookshelves line the walls from top to bottom, almost encaging you in with towers of tales and stories hidden within leather-bound shells. The wall to your right is bare of shelves, in its space is a large bay window, with a cushioned area for somebody to sit and read. Coincedentally, your favourite place to lounge and waste the day away getting lost in foreign, mystical worlds.

Unfortunately, your seat appears to be occupied.

"Excuse me," you call politely, making your way over to the lounging figure who has their nose buried in a book. "You're sitting in my spot."

His attention snaps to yours lightening fast. So fast that you're shocked he didn't give himself whiplash or any other injury.

His gaze, much like his face and eyes, are narrow. Slender cheekbones and an unimpressed scowl are directed your way and the feeling of regret settles deep in your core.

" _Your_ spot?" He repeats with a scoff. "And who are you to claim this seat?"

He sets his book down onto the soft window-seat, and swings his long legs round so he can stand up. Even from a distance, you can tell he's got a considerable amount of height on him. Everything about him is slim; his nose, jaw, torso. He takes a couple of steps towards you, and you notice he makes little to no sound. Agile, you think. He reminds you of a cat, his attentive gaze unwavering from your puzzled face, the way he moves concise and utterly silent. Unruly, raven black hair swept atop his head and glittering golden eyes evoke memories of the black cats from home. Slinking quietly through the market stalls, stalking mice or keeping an eye out for danger.

"Iris, right?" he asks.

You nod. "Ye-"

"Wrong." He interrupts you before you finish speaking, and he's standing right before you. So close that if you look up you can see every fleck of fire in his eyes.

"W-what? What do you mean?"

"Your name isn't Iris at all, is it?"

_How does he know that?_

He smirks at you, thinking he's figured out your deepest darkest secret.

"No, it isn't. How did you know? Did Yeosang tell you?"

"I've been keeping an eye on you, because I don't trust you. Hongjoong may have let you and your friends into the castle without batting an eyelid, but I'm not as easily fooled as him."

"I don't know what you think I'm planning," you glare at him, astounded that he's actually accusing you of plotting something. "But you're greatly mistaken."

He remains silent for a few moments as he eyes you up and down, taking in your hand-me-down clothes (a mixture of Wooyoung and Yeosang's) and untidy, unkempt hair. 

"When our name is called," he begins to explain. "We have a physical reaction. Our eyes light up, our ears perk up, our head swivels round as we try to identify who is calling for us."

"Your point?" Somehow you find it in you to challenge him, despite the fact his glare is weighing down on you so heavily you think your knees might actually buckle with pressure.

" _You do none of these things when your name is called_."

"Okay. So you know that Iris isn't my real name. Yeosang knows that too. Now what?"

"I think if you're going to be living in this castle, free of charge, without doing any work to earn your keep, the least you can do is give me your real name."

In any other circumstance, you would've told him to stick it. Probably with a punch, too. But there's something so intimidating about him, something so covertly dangerous that you can't decipher.

"And why should I tell you that when I don't even know _your_ name?" you bite back, and you see the spark of realisation on his face that he is also a complete stranger to you.

"San." he replies simply.

"Haneul." you answer.

"Haneul?" San echoes. "You don't seem like a Haneul."

"People used to call me Hana."

"Hana? Like the number one?" 

You nod.

"Yeosang just gave me the name Iris when I met him, by the way." A part of you felt compelled to explain why you were going by a different alias. Not that you owed San anything anyway. After all, he had been incredibly rude to you despite having met literally five minutes ago.

"And you didn't think to correct him?"

"Evidently not." 

San rolls his eyes at your curt response, shaking his head a little and pushing his cheek from the inside with his tongue, the same way that Wooyoung does when he gets annoyed with you. You think that they'd probably get on quite well.

"So, do you actually do anything around here?" You throw the questions back in San's direction, feeling quite fed up of being interrogated for one day. "Or do you make a habit of ambushing young women in libraries and demanding their life stories?"

He gives you another unimpressed look before he goes back over to his book at the window-seat.

"I'm the Ateez court jester," he answers you calmly. "I entertain company with jokes, stories, songs, you name it."

"A jester? I thought you wore silly costumes and hats with bells on?"

San scowls at you from across the room. Does he actually know how to smile?

"You read too much." He deadpans. "I'm not a character in a storybook. I'm a person who has a job like everyone else here. I wear ordinary clothes, I don't wear a hat, and I do more than just tell jokes."

San crosses the room with an air of anger, yet he still manages to walk gracefully without making a sound. He places his book back on the shelf, then approaches you at the door.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have a ball to prepare material for."

You side-step out of the way, and San slips past you and you listen as the soft pattering of his footsteps gradually fade, and then disappear altogether.

_What the f-_

"Oh, there you are!"

Wooyoung's lanky frame comes barreling into you, the slight panic laced in his voice making you worry.

"Here I am," you confirm. "What's wrong?"

"Hongjoong wants to see you." He breathes. "About the prophecy."

\-----

"I've already told you! I don't know anything more than you do!"

Hongjoong had summoned you into his office, and the atmosphere in the room told you everything you needed to know. You could cut through it with a knife. A strong knife though, as the tension was so thick a regular butter knife wouldn't dent it one little bit. And the way Hongjoong was leaning against his desk with his arms fully stretched out, head hanging down and exhaling out of his nose like a furious cattle ready to charge.

You assumed that perhaps their work wasn't going swimmingly.

"The deadline to solve this is approaching _fast_ , thief. Do you understand that? My people will _die_ if we don't crack this soon."

"What exactly do you want me to do about it?" You angrily retort. "If you've forgotten, you've kept me in the dark for weeks!"

"Because you were of no use." Hongjoong replies simply. He wanders around the side of his desk and meanders his way to stand in front of you, his arms loosely behind his back.

"However, seeing as it was _you_ who intially offered to help with the prophecy, I thought that perhaps reverting to our roots would prove more fruitful." He lowers himself slightly and stares at you directly with his dangerous, poisonous gaze. 

His demand renders you silent. You stand frozen in his office, the worried glances of Yeosang and Wooyoung piercing into the back of your skull. You will your mouth to open and scream internally at yourself to speak, to say absolutely anything you can conjure to get out of the situation but nothing comes. Finally, the web of lies you've been spinning since day one is about to unravel itself.

And you can do nothing except for watch. 

Is this where you get caught out? After so long? You were beginning to like it here too; the beautiful garden, getting closer to Wooyoung, making friends with Mingi. You had even planned to ask him to teach you how to play the lute. Hell, even making enemies with San was something you were looking forward to. And you hadn't tried the cook's famous apple pie that Mingi raved about. No. No, instead Hongjoong was going to catch out your lies, the stories you had told him and he was going to lock you up in the prison under the castle for the rest of your life. You were going to die, ancient, magicless, friendless, alone, all because you couldn't just tell the damn truth. What were you doi-

"What if it isn't a man?" your tongue expertly blurts out the first thing your racing brain can pluck out of thin air to try and save your back, and you have to stop yourself from squeaking out in shock.

"What do you mean?" Hongjoong asks, with genuine curiousity written across his features.

"Well, the prophecy says Man, doesn't it? But you've been taking it literally. As in, A Man. But what if it means anyone from the human race?"

Hongjoong stands stunned before you for a few seconds, as if he physically cannot comprehend what you have suggested.

"Are you suggesting that a _woman_ will destroy my kingdom?"

"I-, well, no-"

"I think what Iris is trying to say," Yeosang pushes himself off the wall he was leaning against and approaches you and Hongjoong. "Is that we should broaden our horizons a little bit. You know, branch out from searching monstrously powerful men. Look into witches, sirens, even dragons and the like."

"None of those are _human_ , mage." Hongjoong sneers.

Yeosang merely shrugs in response.

"Just a suggestion. Besides, Iris is right. It doesn't state a singular man. The gods haven't always made sense, have they? Perhaps expanding our criteria would be a good thing."

"It could also be somebody disguised as a human," Wooyoung pipes up. "Like a shape-shifter or even a halfling."

"Halfling?" you echo, confused.

"Somebody that is half human and half something else." Yeosang explains. "So a half human half elf would be called a halfling, as would a half human half giant and so on."

"So you really think that we might have something worse than a human on our hands?" Hongjoong asks. He nibbles his bottom lip in a way that makes you concerned for him. It's that moment you remember that he is an exceedingly young king, and that at times he's probably way out of his depth.

He pulls his tawny fur coat tighter over his shoulders and straightens up his posture. It reminds you of a wild fox, and his mannerisms in themselves remind you of a fox cub too. He moves quietly (a running theme of the key figures in this castle, you've noticed), and when he's calm he appears very serene.

You, Wooyoung and Yeosang all nod, and Hongjoong takes that as a sign to proceed.

"Very well. I will have orders out to search and interrogate anyone, and any _thing_ that seems suspicious. Let's hope we're right."

_Yeah_ , you exhale. _Let's hope I'm right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i feel like not much happened in this chapter,,, if you have any feedback (good and bad, just be nice lmao) then please let me know!!!  
> thank u x


	14. fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi all! this will probably be the last update of the year so a happy holidays and a wonderful new year to you all! thank you so much for reading <3

No. Absolutely not. Not a chance in hell.

"We've been through this, Iris." Yeosang sighs. "You _have_ to go!"

You stare up at your mentor, gritting your teeth and trying to contain your rage as best you can. He had found you in the castle gardens, sitting contentedly amoung the radiant blooms to completely ruin your day by telling you Hongjoong was arranging dancing lessons for you.

Because you didn't 'look as though you knew how to dance', apparently. (He was right.)

The prospect of going to the ball was bad enough, let alone have one of his stupid cronies _teach_ you how to dance.

"Why can't _you_ teach me?" you splutter, bursting into your room in an attempt to get away from him.

"Because I won't be dancing." he explains, following you into the room and standing in the threshold. "I'm just a guest. But you, you're an _honourary_ guest."

Honourary guest?! What does that even mean?!

In the end, Yeosang pleads with you to please just do as he asks, and not to cause a fuss. So reluctantly, you agree. He tells you that he doesn't know who your dance teacher will be, and that you should also look for a dance partner to go to the ball with.

"You can't attend a ball alone." Yeosang says as if that is common knowledge.

He turns to walk away, but suddenly remembers something he had forgotten to tell you.

"You also have a dress fitting, by the way. You'll have to talk to Hongjoong or someone about it."

And with that he leaves your room, missing the way you collapse onto your bed with an overwhelmed grunt.

A ball, a dance partner, an elegant ball gown? It was all too much at once, especially for somebody who had never been introduced to anything remotely regal before. How were you supposed to act? What were you meant to say? What if the others could tell you came from a poor background and laughed at you? How were you supposed to dance in a dress? What if-

"Hey, are you alright?"

You snap your head up to the door frame, where the sight of Wooyoung's concerned face soothes your growing panic. He strides across the room and sits down beside you, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you against his chest. He's wearing a billowy white shirt, which you've noticed he likes to leave fairly unbuttoned, plain black trousers and shiny black boots, that you assume have just been freshly polished.

"Are you alright?" He echoes his previous question, knitting his eyebrows together and leaning closer to your face, causing you to flush and rapidly turn your head away.

"Yes," you lie. "I'm just worried about the ball, that's all."

"You're worried? Why? It's going to be so much fun!"

Glancing up at him, you notice how genuinely excited he is, and it settles your worries for a split second. You imagine Wooyoung is an excellent dancer, incredibly graceful on his feet and one who loses himself to the feeling of the music.

"I have no idea how to dance." you shyly admit.

"Really?" The elf shoots up, grabbing your arms along the way. He tugs you roughly so you're standing before him, yet he fails to understand his own strength, and you crash into his chest. Luckily he catches you, with your arms trapped uncomfortably between you both, and he grins, hot breath fanning over your face.

"Then I'll teach you."

"Is that so?" You question sarcastically, wrenching yourself from his grip to hide how flustered you are.

Wooyoung pulls your body back towards him, this time wrapping your arms around his slim neck and settling one his large hands comfortably on your waist.

"Yes." He answers confidently. "All good elves know how to dance."

You glare up at him for a few moments, but you quickly realise his mind is set, and that he isn't letting you go anytime soon. So you yield, relaxing your arms and your legs and Wooyoung grins triumphantly as you do so.

"First of all," he instructs you. "You move your left foot backwards, and simultaneously, I move my left foot forwards.

Hesitantly, you take a step back with only your left leg, and Wooyoung follows suit and moves his left forward.

"See?" He breathes, smiling warmly at you. "Just like that."

He takes you through some more steps, moving your right leg this time, how to move your torso fluidly, and not 'shifting it bulkily from one place to another like an orc'. He teaches you where you should rest your hands, one on his shoulder, and the other clasped firmly, but not tightly, in his own. He scolds you for being too tense, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking you like a ragdoll to loosen you up a bit. 

Soon, the two of you are twirling about your shared bedroom. Clumsily twirling, but twirling nonetheless. Wooyoung's grip on you is gentle, guiding and despite how cheesy it sounds, it's _right_. In the last few weeks you've felt increasingly comfortable around him. He is your comfort zone, your safe space and happy place all rolled into one, lanky, pointy-eared, star-loving, amethyst-eyed living being. It's shocking too, how long it has taken you to realise just how much you care about him.

And it's shocking how you remain oblivious to how he feels the exact same way. 

To the way his heart speeds up when he knows you're close, the way his stomach lurches when your hand squeezes his as you spin around the room. His gaze on you growing softer as you both relax into each other's hold. Even to the way he subtley glances at you when you're both attending meeting with the king. Like he knows deep down it's wrong, that the two of you shouldn't be getting close in this way. 

But it makes him so _happy_.

And that's all Wooyoung wants. 

And heaven knows what Yeosang would say if he found out about Wooyoung's feelings for you. 

But he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it, he thinks, and decides to instead concentrate on not stepping on your toes and not letting his hand accidentally fall too far down your waist.

You both continue to dance in silence. There's a definitive lack of music in the room, but you're both hearing the same melody in your heads, feeling the same beat in your bones and nothing could interrupt the harmony between you.

Wooyoung guides you once more through the room, but this time, in one grand gesture, dips you down whilst keeping a secure hand in the middle of your back. You tip your head backwards and close your eyes, trusting that Wooyoung won't let you fall. 

Your eyes pop open to see Wooyoung leaning over you, his face so close to yours you can feel his breath on you.

"See?" He pants, flashing his killer smile. "You're a natural."

You shrug shyly, and he pulls you up so you're both stood facing one another.

"So, about the ball..." Wooyoung begins, suddenly looking nervously down at the floor and beginning to play with your fingers. "Can I tak-"

" _Iris!_ " You and Wooyoung jump apart at Yeosang's bellow into the room. "I've been looking _everywhere_ for you! Where on earth have you-"

Yeosang stops in his tracks, taking in the sight before him; Wooyoung's hands planted firmly on your waist, the deep blush spread across your cheeks.

"What are you two doing?" He asks suspiciously. No answer. "Whatever. Iris, you're late for your dance lessons. And Wooyoung, Hongjoong wants to speak with you."

Wooyoung bows his head respectfully, shot you a half sad smile and quickly hurries out of the room. Yeosang's curious gaze watches after him, then the mage suddenly turns to you. 

"Well?" he snaps. "Off you go!"

With a start, you jump and scuttle off towards the grand hall where your mystery dance instructor was waiting for you.

Panic begins to flow through you then; who are they? Do they dance better than Wooyoung? Probably not. Are they going to be a strict teacher? You don't think you could handle anybody barking orders at you today. 

You round the corner and discover the giant doors held open, not firmly closed like they usually are. Standing in the threshold, you take in the sight before you.

A collosal hall, stretching so far either side of you, you think it could probably fit double the entire kingdom's population within it. The floors are a pristine, freshly polished beige tile that looks perfect to dance on. You can imagine how amazing the clicking sounds of twirling heels would sound ricocheting off each of the mountain-high, stone walls. Embedded into the walls are multiple stained-glassed depictions. To name a few, you spot a man of impressive stature working away at his glass anvil, smithing something you've never seen before, something both round and spiky. You'll ask Yeosang later, you think. He'll know. On another window, there's powerful bears made out of honey-coloured glass, tearing into their prey; a venison of sorts. Through the years, the crimson dye of the wound had bled through the other panels, making it look as if the venison truly was writhing in pain and trying to escape the picture.

You frown. 

The long, mahogany tables are pushed against the wall opposite you, presumably to create space for your lessons. There are benches stacked atop them neatly, and you salute the poor soul who was forced to put them there. 

To your left, set proudly on a platform so as to raise its occupant higher than everybody else, is the throne. The centerpiece, the main focus, the _pièce_ _de résistance_ , is Hongjoong's special, reserved seat. Carved out of the richest, darkest wood the entire continent has to offer, you know that there probably isn't a finer throne to be seen. The backrest boasts an intricate design of swirls and stars, which run all the way across the armrests and even down to the bottom of the seat. The ends of the armrests curl inwards, and then curl in on themselves even more like a snailshell. A velvet cushion the colour of Wooyoung's vibrant amethyst eyes sits on the seat of the chair and you can't even begin to comprehend how comfortable it must be.

What catches your attention most though, is the exquisite, intricately detailed fox head, sculpted into the middle of the backrest. The light from the vast windows behind the throne shines through the gaps in the carving, forming the face of the fox in a natural way. 

You imagine Hongjoong lounging in the chair, glittering crown upon his head, royal cloak draped over the armrests as he watches his subjects with a bored expression. The king strikes you as somebody who would find balls and banquets just as mundane as you do. 

Seonghwa is stood in the middle of the hall, facing your direction and is mid-conversation with somebody else. He spots you and waves you over, extending a long arm well above his head. The other person turns to face you, and you scowl as your eyes meet with-

"San." you growl as you approach the men.

"Good morning, _Iris_." he smiles at you, but the look in his eyes is pure poison.

The kingsguard doesn't catch on however, and claps his hands togther before addressing you both. 

"Great, you're finally here! San here," he gestures to the younger man who is sporting an incredibly unimpressed frown. "will be teaching you how to dance, and how one should conduct themselves at a royal function."

"Lovely." you speak through gritted teeth. 

Seonghwa wishes the two of you luck, and informs you he will be back in two hours to check your progress. If you haven't gotten any better, he says, you'll have to keep practising until Hongjoong decides you're good enough.

Brilliant. A _minimum_ of two hours being stuck with an-

" _Idiot_." San snarls. "You're holding your arms completely wrong."

You glance at your arms which are rung hesitantly around his neck.

"Shut up, _clown_. My arms are perfectly fine."

"I'm a jester, not a clown." He seethes. And no, your arms are too heavy. You need to relax them, or you'll crush the poor soul who has the misfortune of dancing with you."

You glare furiously at him, but relax your arms nonetheless. As much as it bruises your dignity to listen to him, you don't want to spend any longer with this insufferable human being than you have to.

"Fine." you huff, and let your arms hang more loosely.

"Better." San nods.

Luckily, your training with Wooyoung proved extremely helpful. You could see on San's face he was impressed with the way you moved your feet less clumsily than he had originally anticipated. Of course, he wouldn't ever admit that to you. Dancing with San was fairly straightforward, but it felt totally different to dancing with Wooyoung.

Probably because you couldn't stand San's guts. But whatever.

San's hands on your waist were easy to ignore, the fact that his face was ridiculously close to yours didn't bother you in the slightest. Almost the polar opposite to the way your heart would race and your palms would sweat when Wooyoung even breathed near you. All you could hear was the echoing of shoes on the polished tile floor and San's steady breathing in your ear.

The jester was in the middle of teaching you a new step when Seonghwa entered the room, tailed by a certain, nervous looking elf.

"So," Seonghwa looked at San. "how's it going?"

"Well. She seems to know what she's doing." San replied simply.

You shot Wooyoung a knowing, shy glance and his heart lurched up into this throat.

"Satisfactory enough for the ball?" 

"Most likely, your time will be better spent teaching her royal manners rather than dancing."

You glare at San, about to berate him for insulting you, but you're interrupted.

"What exactly are you implying?" Wooyoung spits, his pupils narrowing in anger.

"The pigs in the courtyard have more elegance than she does." San retorts. "Step down, _elf_ , I wouldn't try anything. I'm sure you're more than aware of what your fate will be if you even dare to start anything." 

Wooyoung grits his teeth, knowing full well what would happen to him. He growls lowly in frustration before falling back to your side, and you can almost feel the anger radiating off him.

"Anyway..." Seonghwa's gaze flicks between the three of you, awkwardly trying to defuse the situation. "I think we'll leave the dancing lessons at that for now. San, join Mingi in the music room. There's a new routine for both of you to go over."

San nods, shoots both you and Wooyoung an irritated look, before hurrying proudly out of the hall.

"Apologies for him." Seonghwa addresses you both, straightening his posture and fixing the black strand of hair that hangs over his left eye. "He doesn't take to newcomers very well, I'm sure he'll warm up to you both in no time."

He adjusts his pristine uniform, bows shortly to you and follows San out of the room, leaving you and the elf alone in the hall.

"How stra-"

"Go to the ball with me."

"W-what?"

Peering up at Wooyoung, you notice his pupils are still dilated in fury. His nostrils are flared too, yet he speaks in the same calm tone he always holds.

"Go to the ball with me." He repeats, this time grabbing your hand tenderly in his and bending his head down a little to match your height. "Nobody has asked you already, have they?"

"No, but-"

"Then, I would be honoured if you would accompany me to the dance."

"Wooyoung I-" you lock eye contact with him, searching his amethyst eyes for any hint of malice or intent to humiliate you, but you find none.

He's dead serious.

And just like that, you're frozen. Of course your brain is screaming at you to say yes, and your heart is roaring at you to say yes. In fact, every part of you is blaring 'say yes', but the shock renders you speechless. You could sense something between you and Wooyoung had changed, but does this mean Wooyoung had sensed it too?

Sure, friends could dance at balls together too but-

It was different.

"Yes." you blurt, _finally_. "I would love to."

His face lights up like a kingdom parade, his eyes practically sparkle in the light and he smiles wider than you've ever seen, flashing a glimpse of his sharper, elfin canines.

"Really?" he grins. "Okay. Okay!"

"You're going to have to teach me more dancing, I'm still pretty bad at it."

"Nonsense." He says, leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. "You're an excellent dancer."

Wooyoung waves goodbye to you then, stating he has some 'important business to attend to, immediately'

You wave back meekly, stunned from the peck on your nose. He disappears into the hallway and now your worries about the ball have increased tenfold. Now that you actually have somebody to impress? You'll be tripping over your feet and stepping all over Wooyoung's toes. But the thought of Wooyoung wanting to go with you makes you feel giddy.

So giddy in fact you practically skip up the castle stairs to your room. You grab your cloak and sling it over your shoulders, yanking the hood up and over to hide as much as your face as possible. 

Like a ghost, you pad through the hallways until you're met with a small side-door underneath the stairs that you're convinced nobody knows about. Perhaps only San and Mingi, but they're busy. You steal out the door, closing it silently behind you. Rushing through the dingy stone hallway, you find another door with sunlight filtering out underneath it. 

Just what you were looking for. 

\-----

You push the door open with a determined hand, flinching slightly as the bell above you obnoxiously announces your arrival. 

"Welcome to the Ateez Apothecary! What can I- oh, why, long time no see, little lady!"

"Afternoon, Yunho." You respond to his usual, cheery grin with a small smile of your own. He's as tall and baby-faced as ever, this time donning a summery blonde mop in place of the gingerbread hair he had the last time you saw him.

"No Yeosang with you today?" He notices. "You're not doing anything sneaky, are you?" he chuckles playfully, fully expecting you to laugh along.

But you don't. You keep your face kind, but serious as you reply.

"Actually... yes. Kind of."

Yunho's face falls a little, but an intrigued glint flickers in his eyeballs.

"Oh? And am I correct in assuming you require _my_ assisstance? And that you would prefer it if this was kept from Yeosang's knowledge?"

You nod.

Yunho smirks, leaning forward onto his elbows on the wooden countertop.

"Then what exactly can I help you with?"

You adjust your hood anxiously, biting your lip as you watch Yunho's excited demenour. You wonder if this is something that you should be doing. The obvious answer being no. But you refuse to be a pushover. You refuse to blindly follow the rules put in place by other people who have no obligation to follow those same rules. And you know that there's nobody else who would help you. Except maybe Yunho.

It's a chance you're willing to take.

"I want you to teach me magic."


	15. fifteen

"You want _me_ to teach you magic?" Yunho splutters over the counter, his jaw dropped as he stares at you in disbelief.

You nod.

"Well, little lady, I'm afraid I cannot help you."

Your confident demeanor falls, your posture slouching and curved mouth pointing into a frown.

"What?" you demand. "Why not?"

Yunho sighs and after a moment of hesitation, leaves the counter and steps through a doorway that leads to the back of the shop, motioning you with a scar-littered hand to follow him.

You heave up the wooden slab that allows you access behind the counter and follow Yunho's quick pace. The blonde apothecary leads you down a set of worn, stone stairs, and you find yourself in a dingy, cold basement.

The basement is scarcely lit, with a couple of iron brackets mounted on the wall, each baring a lit torch that radiates a flickering, orange light throughout the room. Yunho's giant shadow dances on the wall, and suddenly he becomes the opposite of the bubbly apothecary you knew before.

A workbench is pressed up against the left wall, bundles of chamomile flowers and small piles of marshmallow root thrown chaotically across the surface. The wooden chair is shoved carelessly to the side, and you can see on the chair legs how worn and damaged they are from scraping across the cobblestone floor. On the opposite wall, are tall, oak shelves similar to the ones upstairs in the shop. Packages of twine and string and burlap sacks and rolls of parchments are scattered messily upon each shelf, almost as if Yunho had unpacked his things in a rush.

You stop walking abruptly, as Yunho bends down and fumbles underneath the workbench. You watch as he slides his slender fingers on the underside of the wooden table, squinting his eyes and poking his tongue out as he searches what he's looking for.

"There we go." He mumbles lowly, just as you hear a _click_ and he stands up straight.

You almost jump out of your skin, at the sound of loud rattling, clanking, and finally the ear-splitting screech of wood raking against stone. It's only when the cacophany of noises stop that you realise that the shelf, is not a shelf at all.

The entire back panel of the shelf is gone, as are the contents that lay upon it.

Instead, there are more steps, which lead down into an impossibly darker room.

"Go on." Yunho points to the new entrance, indicating for you to go down the steps.

"Are you perhaps short of a marble?" You scoff. "Go down there and let you kill me? I don't think so."

"If I wanted to kill you, I would've done it a long time ago." A darkness clouds over his eyes and you swallow thickly. "Now go."

This time you decide to listen to him, and you take a hesitant step downwards.

The walls are damp, with trails of moss coating the steps and buried inside the cracks of the stone. You take it slow, not wanting to slip and let your guard down in case Yunho changes his mind and does decide to kill you.

"What are you waiting for?" His impatient voice comes from behind you. "Do you really think I would hurt you?" There's a twinge of pain as he speaks, and you feel slightly guilty for even thinking sweet, innocent, doctor Yunho would be capable of something like that.

Once you're down the stairs, you squint to try and make out the shapes in the unlit room. You spot something circular on the floor, but you can't make out what it is. It's too dark to see, but the smell of dust and ancient damp invades your nostrils. Yunho hasn't been down here in a very long time. 

There's a snapping sound from behind you, and the torches in the room suddenly light themselves.

Despite the light, the room is still eerily dark. You can barely make out the furniture in the room. There's what appears to be a desk, covered in cobwebs but still much tidier and more organised than the one in the basement. There's a (real) shelf too, full to the brim with thick, leather-bound books which, if you squint hard enough, you notice have holes chewed out of the spine. Lastly, upon the ground and painted sloppily in white, is a five pointed star within a circle.

"Yunho?" You whisper. "What is all this?"

He ignores you and paces over to the table. With his sleeve, he sweeps away the dust, and picks up a worn, tattered notebook. Yunho hands you the book, and you read the cover, confused.

"Laredia Academy of Magic?" you read. "You're a mage?"

"I _was_ a mage." he corrects you.

"How do you just _stop_ being a mage? Just unlearn all the magic?" you joke.

"No." Yunho's face is deadly serious, and your smile falters and your blood runs cold. "I was cast out, and my mage rites were revoked."

You stand awkwardly in silence, biting your lip and finding sudden interest at the dirt scuffs on the tips of Yunho's black boots.

"Yeosang and I went to the same magic academy," He explains. "In Laredia, just north of the Seventeen kingdom. He was in the class above me, because he's older, but every single student knew about Yeosang."

Yunho grabs a chair from the darkest corner of the room and sits down on it, pointing behind you at another chair you hadn't noticed. Once you sit down, he continues.

"I always wanted to be a mage. It was my absolute dream, and I knew that basically anybody can do the most basic spell, so I trained hard every single day before I was even old enough to apply to an academy. Hundreds upon thousands of wishful mages and sorceresses are turned away from academies because they lack true magical talent. Luckily, I passed the entrance exam and the initiation tests, and I got in.

"The professors said I was a natural, that I had magical skills they hadn't witnessed in centuries. I was only four months into my first year at Laredia before they moved me up a class. And that was where I met Yeosang.

"We butted heads at first," Yunho chuckles fondly, remembering all the fights he and his elder got into all those years ago. Reminising the scars and spell marks scattered across his body. "We were both exceptionally good at magic, I would argue Yeosang was better than I. I would never have admitted that in my youth, but he was much more controlled, sensible with his talent than I was.

"Everything was a competition between 'Sang and I. Theory exams, practical classes, potions and herbology. Anything you could study there, we always strived to be the best. Eventually we became both good friends and rivals... It was fun and games for a few years, you know? I think at one point we were almost as close as brothers..."

Yunho begins to trail off, a sad look filling his walnut eyes as they glitter in the flickering light.

"Did something happen?" you whisper softly. He nods slowly.

"I...I pushed it too far in our last year. That was the year the academy would prepare you for mage work, I was to be sent out to the kingdom of Streyden in the east, and become King Chan's magical advisor. Yeosang was on track to be a professor at Laredia himself, and he was, for quite a while.

"Yeosang possessed so much more than I did when it was time to graduate. He was better at spell-casting, he was absolutely phenomenal at herb identifying - ironic now given I run an apothecary actually- but there was nothing Yeosang could be bested at, and it drove me utterly insane. It evolved into more than a friendly rivalry, more than just healthy competition. It became an obsession, nd so I went out searching for what my heart yearned for the most; more power.

"I found it quickly, too. I was directed to an elven clan that resided deep in the southern forest, under the impression they were gifted in regular magic, and they could teach me any spell I desired. So of course, I went. I was young, stupid and incredibly naive to believe it would've worked. And foolish to think that I could've gotten away with it."

Yunho sighs deeply, leaning his elbows on his knees and hanging his head between his legs. He rubs his hands over his face roughly, and your gut tells you Yunho's story isn't about to get any better. You watch him, and you try to take in everything he just told you. You knew that Yeosang and Yunho had been friends for a long time, but you had no idea they went back this far.

"The elves were agents of the arcane arts alright," Yunho spits bitterly out of the blue, causing you to jump in your seat a little. "Their dark magic consumed me entirely, contaminated my soul and tainted every fibre of my being. I knew I was ruined the moment I agreed to train under them. I was... so _aware_ that everything they were teaching me was so wrong. Yet it was everything I had dreamed of, and more than anything I knew it would allow me to beat Yeosang.

"This elf clan had roots in the fire elementals, so they all were wickedly powerful pyromancers. They taught me almost everything they knew, and I couldn't believe how tame the magic at the academy was. I trained in dark magic with the elves for months, until our final practical exam came around.

"We had to duel with another member of our class, I can't remember the name of the boy who had the misfortune of being paired with me, seung- or seong- or something like that. I was absolutely positive I would win, but he was fast. _Too_ fast. I wouldn't be surprised if the idiot had sought out the same thing I had."

Yunho pauses somberly, his broad, built shoulders drooping where he sat, and his face moulding into a sad, distant frown.

"Everytime I close my eyes, all I see are flashes of fire." Yunho whispers, staring at the floor. "I remember the feeling, but not much else. I- I can recall quite literally exploding into flames... It's like a bubbling cauldron, and it just keeps boiling and boiling until it gets so hot it bursts. And It felt like burning lava was pouring out of every single pore and hair follicle in my body."

The apothecary nibbles his bottom lip, shaking his head bitterly at the ground beneath his feet.

"It was so painful. I've broken countless bones, been on the recieving end of spells cast by the most powerful of mages, and yet I have never experienced pain like it.

"I can't believe I even have the gall to say it hurt." Yunho scoffs. "I can't even begin to imagine how much pain my duel partner was in.

"The academy realised straight away that it was dark magic. I hadn't fooled anyone in the slightest. The explosion had set the entire courtyard alight, all the trees, the furniture outside, even a couple of the students themselves, everything within a short radius of me. It was a tornado of flames, swirling round and round and I could easily have killed everybody that was there. The professors were on high alert though, they had to be during student duels. They rounded up the other students, and teleported themselves to safety in seconds. 

"Everyone except for me, of course. They must have decided that my punishment for dabbling in the dark arts was death, and so they left me there to burn alive. Students weren't taught how to teleport at that point either, so I could do nothing except sit and watch the flames eating away at my skin."

"You're still alive... obviously." You chime in. "How'd you get out?"

"Yeosang." He replies simply.

He tells you how Yeosang fought and argued with the professors of the academy to forgive Yunho and let him live, almost getting himself expelled and his teaching job revoked. He explains how the professors refused to help Yunho, and how Yeosang risked his own life to save him.

"He spent weeks healing my burns, keeping me hidden away in his dorm room." Yunho breathes. "He nearly got kicked out too, but the academy knew he was too good of an asset to let go. I told him he was a fool to help me while risking so much in the process, but he's a good man. Despite all the competitions and tension between us, he's always been a good friend."

You nod solemnly in agreement. Even from the first moment you had met the platinum haired mage, you knew he possessed a generous soul. From saving you after the storm, housing, clothing and feeding you, teaching you to help heal people and allowing you to earn real, official qualifications, getting caught up in the prophecy mess you had caused and not complaining about it once. Yeosang had done so much for you, and yet here you are, repaying him by sneaking around and doing the one thing he refused to help you with.

Guilt squirms around in your stomach and latches on to your flesh with it's poisonous claws, puncturing your organs and pumping your insides full of toxins. It meanders its way through your body until it infects your bloodstream, flowing through every limb and vein until it hits your brain and starts to fog your senses and stain your conscience.

You have to keep telling yourself it's for a good reason; learning magic will help you in the long run, you just know it. It's just a shame that Yeosang doesn't understand that.

"You said Yeosang was a teacher at the academy, right?" You blurt.

Yunho nods. "Yes, for a few years."

"Then why does he refuse to teach me if he's literally qualified to do so?"

"He hasn't told you about what happened while he was a teacher, has he?"

You shake your head.

"It's not my place to tell you, Iris. Yeosang would kill me if I did." Yunho stands up with a grunt, brushing his knees off with the palms of his hands. "He'd also kill me if I taught you any magic behind his back, and I owe my life to him. So, I will not be teaching you any magic either."

"What?! Hold on!" You jump up in protest, glaring angrily at the giant man before you. "That's not fair! What was all that about then? If you were just going to say no?!"

Yunho grabs you by the shoulders, abruptly stopping your rage fueled ranting.

"Because I wanted you to know how thirst for power, particularly magic, can be incredibly dangerous."

"Well, I'm not as foolish as you." You snap aggressively, not noticing the twinge of hurt written on Yunho's face.

"You may well be right. But I still won't be helping you."

"Fine." You shrug, giving up. "Fine. Thanks for your time anyway, Yunho."

He bows politely to you, lifting up an arm and motioning to the steps for you to leave. Wrapping your arms tightly around you, you hurry up the stairs of both the secret room and the basement, until you're at the front door of the shop.

Yunho resumes his signature position of elbows on the counter, leaning forward, cheeky grin and puppy dog eyes shining brightly.

"Just... be wary, Iris. You can't trust everyone in this world."

You smile shortly, offering only a curt nod before you grab the handle of the door.

"Thanks, Yunho. See you around."

"Farewell, little lady."

The bell tinkles above you when you gently pull the door open, and chimes again as it closes after you slip your way out. You walk back to the castle at a brisk pace, keeping to yourself and keeping your gaze fixed on the ground.

Only when you feel safe enough, do you untangle your arms from around your torso, glancing down at the thick, leather-bound book you smuggled underneath your sleeves. Wiping the remaining dust off the cover, you read the bold, imprinted words;

LAREDIA ACADEMY OF MAGIC.

"Once a thief, always a thief" You grin proudly. 

\-----

You figured the best place to hide your stolen goods was in plain sight, which is why you are skimming the library shelves for the smartest hiding spot. You find a pile of books hidden away in the corner which didn't look too dusty, thinking that if there were to be completely dust-free books in the neglected library, it would look too suspicious. You slide Yunho's book at the bottom of the pile, making a mental note to come back later and properly skim through it. 

"Where have you been?" Yeosang demands when you casually stroll into his workspace.

Hongjoong had given Yeosang and Wooyoung a study to work in, after his own had become a mess and entirely overwhelmed with parchments and hand-drawn diagrams. You throw yourself comfortably onto the bench opposite his desk.

"Just in the gardens," you reply coolly. "Hanging out."

"Is that so? How come I couldn't find you there then?" Wooyoung's voice comes sharply from the doorway, where he stands with his arms folded, leaning against the door frame as he looks at you with a deep frown.

"Maybe you just didn't look hard enough." You shrug.

The elf says nothing, but you can feel his gaze burning into the back of your head.

Yeosang ignores you both, too absorbed in studying the papers before him to listen to you and Wooyoung squabble. 

"Still no monster?" you ask.

Yeosang shakes his head. "I was certain we would find one," he sighs. "But there's been no sighting of any sea monsters or creatures in decades."

"The ball is in two days," Yeosang continues. "Hongjoong expects something significant from us before then but we have nothing to offer him. He had patrols out investigating anybody remotely suspicious, I heard the guards interrupted a group of drunk dwarves playing cards... they were not impressed. But there hasn't been anyone new in the city or any of the villages in the kingdom. Nothing."

"If it's destiny, then maybe us looking for them is the problem. What if we just wait for them to come to us?" You suggest. 

"Then what if destiny says we have to chase them down?" Yeosang counters with a stressed hand through his hair. "Either way, we're stuck."

Wooyoung crosses the room to peer over the diagrams for what must be the thousandth time in the last two weeks. He and Yeosang mutter lowly to each other as they read, pointing and drawings and shuffling through papers. You can only sit with your head hung low, staring miserably at the floor as the feeling of uselessness settles in your bones. 

You're so tired of offering nothing. Of being no help to anyone. All people do is look after you while you wander around getting in people's way. 

Suddenly, you're on your feet, and you're striding through the hallways to the library you've become so familiar with. You heave the doors open and hurry over to Yunho's book that you hid only mere hours ago, stuffing it under your shirt and creeping out of the library, and down the steps.

You refuse to rely on others. You refuse to have other people look after you. You refuse to be a liability. It's time to start fending for yourself, starting from now.

You locate the somewhat hidden door you took out of the castle earlier, and instead of turning out the door, you carry on down the hallway. 

Eventually, the hallway leads to a large, empty room made entirely of cobblestone. Perfect for practicing magic. You found the torch you had used before, and lit it with a match you had forgotten about in your pocket. Once lit, you set the torch in a wall bracket and kneel down on the floor underneath it. 

Rustling underneath your shirt, Yunho's book falls onto the ground with a dull _thump_ , which bounces loudly off the walls. You hold your breath, panicked, but luckily nobody comes. Opening the first few pages, you read over Yunho's messy scrawl, taking in the drawings of hand positions and words in a language you don't understand. 

You flick through more and more faded pages until you come across one that catches your eye. You look at Yunho's drawing, trying to match your own hand to the one on the page. You stick your right hand out flat, fingers together, and palm facing upwards. Then, you pull your four fingers back so the fingertips are pressed against your palm. Keeping your fingers in place, you rotate your hand so the back of your hand is now facing upwards, and rapidly flick your fingers out in front of you, presumably where the receiving end of the spell would be. 

You repeat the motion over and over again, gradually building speed so after a while, your actions are fluid and less clunky. Next, is the hard part; learning the spell. 

"Feainn ichaer?" You whisper, reading from the page. "What on earth does that mean? What language is that?"

Maybe exploring the library for some language books would be a good idea, you think.

But for now, you say the phrase aloud over and over again, not even knowing if you're doing it right but acting as if you're fluent in whichever language this is. 

Once you feel like you've got it more or less right, you decide it's time to pair the speech and hand movements together.

Nervousness takes you by surprise then, and you have to readjust your kneeling position on the ground three times before you're ready. Taking a deep breath, you stretch your hand out like before, and you can feel the words on your tongue.

You feel it then; a rushing sensation in your stomach, burrowing past your organs and hurling itself up towards your lungs. It burns slightly as it travels, almost in the same way that hot milk burns as you swallow it, except instead of going down, this is coming up, flying past your lungs and sliding up your throat and crawling through the gaps between your teeth.

"Feainn," you pull your fingers back, and turn your hand over, the burning feeling spreading down to the tips of your toes and the tips of your ears, and you're convinced you can smell smoke. You close your eyes to focus on the spell, ignoring the sting of the fire licking at your veins and the boiling of your blood inside your veins, ignoring the loud thumping ricocheting around your eardrums, and ignoring the way your entire body begins to vibrate and ignoring the way it feels like you're about to explode at any moment. "Icha-"

" _What are you doing?"_

Your eyes snap open. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick note; the language used for the spell is elder speech from the witcher 3: wild hunt! it doesnt belong to me!   
> thanku for reading!


	16. sixteen

_"What are you doing?"_

The book crashes heavily onto the stone floor, your arms darting out in a panicked effort to catch it. Hopelessly, you watch as it clatters loudly, though as it hits the ground, it falls shut, not allowing the intruder to see the contents of the page.

"Iris? What are you doing down here?"

You peek upwards, and you see the confused figure of San standing before you, bewildered.

But you can't answer him, all too consumed by the fizzling feeling darting through your body. The burning from before simmering to a halt like a cauldron taken away from roaring flames. Your breathing becomes erratic and heavy, a weight pressing down on your chest rendering you in tears.

"Oh gods," San mumbles and rushes to your figure, mimicing your own position of sitting on your knees. "Oh gods, oh gods."

You kneel, trembling and yet somehow completely motionless opposite San.

"Iris?" he calls to you gently. "Can I touch you?"

You don't register the movement, but you assume you must've nodded, as San slowly reaches out and places both of his palms on your cheeks, lifting your head up and forcing your streaming eyes to look into the concerned, inky wells of his own.

"Breathe slowly, okay? _Slowly_... There you go." San slows his own breathing down, allowing you to match the rhythm and soothe the manic pace your lungs were working at.

A few minutes pass, and your breathing returns to it's original pace. San is still sat across from you, his hands in his lap as he waits for you to explain what on earth just happened. 

"I'm so tired of feeling useless..." you frown, and pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly to your body. "It's my fault everybody is involved in this mess, and they only let me help when they need it.

"I thought maybe... maybe if I learnt something useful and showed them that I _am_ capable then they would be forced to listen to me." Sniffling, you wipe the tears from your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

"I know how you feel." San sighs, and you study his frown. His cold, defensive demeanour from the last few weeks melting away and being replaced with a sadder, vulnerable version of him. 

"I know that I'm the court jester," he continues. "But I'm more than just jokes and silly costumes. I can do much more than that, and... and I wish people would let me prove that to them."

"It isn't fair." You whine.

"Life isn't fair." San agrees.

"You won't... tell anyone about this, will you?" You ask timidly after a few moments silence.

"Were you doing anything bad?" He asks.

You shake your head. "Just studying." You weren't _technically_ lying. Just concealing the truth.

"Alright," San nods. "I won't say anything. But I better not catch you doing it again."

He stands up and brushes the dirt from his knees, then extends a rough palm out towards you. Gratefully, you take it, quickly bundling up Yunho's book and clutching it to your chest to conceal it from San's view.

"I hope you're prepared for the ball tomorrow," San says suddenly. "If your dancing is as shocking as it was the other day then there's zero hope for you."

"I'll be fine. Wooyoung'll teach me how to dance."

San rolls his eyes and shrugs, telling you that he'll see you around and that you should go to bed before somebody else catches you. You watch him leave, peering at his raven black hair bouncing as he walks until he was finally out of view.

It's not until you hear the distance _clunk_ of the door closing that you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. You grip slackens on the book and your arm muscles sigh in relief. Letting go of the book, you study your right hand curiously, turning it over to examine your palm and fingers, trying to remember the fizzing feeling in your blood.

The tingling had stopped now, only the tiniest remnant of power was left in your body, slowly dissipating until it disappeared entirely. Never in your life had you expected to feel something like that, something so exciting and yet so dangerous. Staring down at your outstretched hand, you imagined red hot trails of angry, bubbling lava, slowly seeping into the crevices between your fingers and wrapping down your wrist, crawling down the expanse of your forearm. 

It felt... _good_. 

But nobody else can know, you remind yourself. If Yunho found out you stole his book, he'd kill you. If Yeosang found out you were learning magic, he'd kill you. You didn't want to think about what Wooyoung would do. 

You figured that anybody detecting magic from the castle wouldn't be a problem, concluding that there's no way you'll be able to produce any substantial power that could be detected. Yeosang had told you that anybody could do magic, but only certain people could wield the chaos enough to do any damage. There was no way you would be able to do that. Besides, you were teaching yourself, so there's _definitely_ no chance of anyone being able to rat you out.

You tuck the book under your arm, and start the quiet creeping back to your room.

_Nobody will catch you. You won't let them._

_\-----_

"I really don't- Ow! I really don't see why I have to wear this ghastly thing." You grunt in pain as the poor woman behind you tugs harshly at your outfit.

She's got a foot on your lower back and she yanks at the strings of the corset that is built into your - admittedly, very beautiful - dress. It is an incredibly elegant, sky blue silk gown that grazes the wooden floor beneath you. Complete with flowing sleeves that end past your fingertips, made of a crystal blue, sheer material that makes you feel like a princess of a fairy kingdom in a land very, very far from Ateez. 

The sheer fabric also lays atop the baby blue silk of the skirt, with small, rose pink butterflies sewn into them at various points. The bodice is tightly laced both at the front and the back, luckily the neckline doesn't sweep too low, only showing your collarbones. 

"Because, His Majesty says you have to." The woman, named Callonetta, tells you. "Besides, you look wonderful in this dress."

She's right too. You _do_ look amazing in the gown, but you frown at yourself as you catch your own gaze in the mirror ahead of you. Inspecting your right arm, clad in ocean blue sleeve, and admiring how serene your blood feels compared to the way it was angrily boiling not even a whole day ago. Your gaze falls onto one of the light pink butterflies stitched to the bodice, the way it's wings have been poised make it look like its about to take flight, rip its tiny little legs free of its string prison and soar out the open window. 

But of course, it can't. Because it isn't real, it's fake body pinned down to the bodice and you imagine it wriggling and writhing in pain as the seamstress pushes her needle into its frail wings. Such pain caused only to look beautiful. Totally restricted, unable to live life the way it was intended to be; free, happy, uncontrolled.

Another sharp jerk of the bodice strings from behind snaps your attention back to the mirror, allowing you to survey yourself properly.

Your hair, braided tightly and pinned back to form a crown around the base of your skull, with small curls pulled out to frame the sides of your face. Tied together with a sparkling silver circlet, the sides hidden under the expanse of hair, the metal twisting together to form a intricate design that presses against your forehead. In the center, encased in silver, is a single, circular sapphire that glitters in the candlelight everytime you move. Small, yet detailed silver leaves surround the gorgeous gem, and you even notice tiny, metal roses trailing up the sides of the circlet and disappearing underneath your hair.

You wonder if the late Queen had a tiara or crown as impressively beautiful as your circlet.

"The circlet belonged to Her Majesty," Callonetta informs you suddenly, as if she could read your thoughts. "This was the one she wore when she and the King announced the birth of King Hongjoong."

You could imagine how graceful Hongjoong's mother had looked. Radiant from the miracle of childbirth, tired yet still regal and proud of her newborn son. Sapphire circlet glistening in the rainbow coloured light of the main hall.

"What about this dress?" You whisper.

Somehow, you couldn't picture the Queen wearing a gown such as this. Sure, it was stunning, but for a Queen, much too simple. And yet you couldn't ignore the definitive lack of women in the castle, Callonetta and the cook being the only two you had met thus far.

"Heavens no," Callonetta scoffs, throwing her messy, ginger plait over her shoulder as she refocuses her attention on tying your bodice, "This dress was made for you specifcally. His Majesty has a personal tailor, he will refuse to wear anything made by anyone else."

Your face flushes at that, an embarrasing, startling shade of pink that puts the butterflies on your dress to shame.

"The tailor is renowned for his work," she continues, "All his garments have his printed emblem inside the back of the neckline, a small, roaring bear. Nobody knows why he chose a bear of all things, but it certainly is striking."

Your mind is cast back to the bear at the inn you and Yeosang stayed at on the journey to Wooyoung's. It all seemed so long ago now. 

_“Did you hear that?” you whisper to Yeosang._

_“It’s just a bear.” He mumbles in response, making you jump slightly because you thought he was still asleep._

" _A bear?” you hiss._

_“I know,” he says sarcastically. “Un-bear-lieveable.”_

_You retrieve one of your pillows and launch it at his figure, smirking triumphantly when he grunts in surprise._

_“That was a terrible joke.” you complain and bury yourself back into your improvised bed._

_“Whatever,” Yeosang yawns. “just go to sleep, we’ll be meeting the astrologer tomorrow so you need to rest.”_

_Finally deciding to listen to the mage, you squeeze your eyes shut tightly in hopes you’ll fall asleep quickly. Luckily, you do just that, sleeping peacefully and dreaming about the bear in the forest outside. He’s wounded, bleeding heavily from a nasty gash on his neck and panting in pain. You reach out to help him, but of course it’s just a dream; he’ll be okay. You hope._

You think about that bear more often that you'd like to admit, imagining his large, brown eyes, watery with pain and the wounded yelping haunted your dreams.

A final, squeezing tug of the laces and Callonetta sighs in relief. She tells you that you're ready for the ball, and that you should wait in the dressing room until somebody comes to get you. Before you can ask who, or when, she hurries out of the door and you hear her shuffling quickly down the stone hallway. 

Once again, you stare miserably at yourself in the mirror, wishing that you could attend the ball in your typical white shirt and plain black breeches.

Maybe Wooyoung is right though, perhaps the ball will bring some enjoyment into your life, away from all the secrets and worrying and death.

You suspect that nobody will be coming to get you for quite some time, so you perch yourself at the window seat opposite the mirror. Reaching under the cushions, you retrieve Yunho's book, which you expertly hid before Callonetta arrived.

Flicking through the pages, you spot the spell you learnt yesterday and your heart freezes between your ribs. Holding your breath, you decide to ignore that one, and flip the pages eagerly. Eventually, you come across a double page spread that piques your interest. You can't decipher Yunho's messy drawing of the hand movements this time (perhaps for the best), but you can make out his scrawled handwriting of 'circular' just below it.

"Aevon bleidd." you whisper aloud, the language feeling foreign on your tongue.

After repeating the phrase multiple times, you realise you must have nailed the pronounciation as there's a dull pounding in your skull, and your fingertips are turning a concerning shade of blue. From your nails all the way down to the tip of your elbow, you feel a travelling freezing feeling flowing through your veins like a great and powerful river. Your veins pulsate a vivid blue, much like the way Yeosang's thundered with lightening the first time you met him. 

_“I’m a mage,” he had told you suddenly over porridge one morning. He clenched his large palms into equally large fists and laid his forearm upon the table, facing upwards towards the canopy of jade leaves above your heads. “You see those blue lines? They’re called veins, and our blood runs through these.”_

_You nodded silently, unsure of what his point was._

_“In mine, flows blood as well as chaos,” he explained. “Almost anybody can do basic magic, provided you’re taught by the right people.”_

_Using his other hand, he ran a gentle finger down the stripe of his prominent veins, and the cerulean bumps bubbled and boiled into a startling shade of sunlight. You squinted in awe; you swore you could see a lightning storm rattling around inside of his arm._

_“But only those born into chaos possess the abilities to truly wield it.” Yeosang snapped his fingers, and the bolts of lightning in his veins returned to the cool, sea blue they were before._

Snapping the book shut abruptly, you clutch your forearm to your chest and squeeze your eyes tightly shut. This is wrong, you think. Everything about this is wrong. Is magic supposed to feel this way? Make your insides wriggle and writhe and struggle in a desperate attempt to become your outsides? Yeosang had said only certain people had the ability to properly wield chaos into magic, did this mean that you were one of those people?

Ordinary peoples veins didn't stream like rivers.

Ordinary peoples blood didn't burn like fire.

Stuffing the book back between the cushions, you stare out of the window at the castle gardens below. Despite spending the majority of your time amoungst the flowers, it is only from up in the window you notice the penstemons - beardtongues, representative of bravery - arranged to spell 'HJ'. 

It was surreal, your life, when you truly sat down to think about it. How barely a handful of months ago you were just a poor, lowly thief stealing bread to make it through the day, and now here you were, sitting in a dressing room within the castle of the most powerful kingdom on the planet, wearing a dress and jewels so expensive you felt dizzy at the thought. 

Surrounded by elves, mages, kings, bards, magic and with all of those came danger. 

A light tapping on the door, then the creaking of the door slowly opening catches your attention, and you look over to see a very proud looking kingsguard.

"I must say little thief," Seonghwa glides towards you with a small smile on his perfect face, watching you attentively through his narrow eye, the other eye obstructed by his hair. "You do scrub up _incredibly_ well."

Hopping off the window seat, you offer Seonghwa a grin of your own. His hair, as always, is not a single bit out of place, shiny black and hanging over his left eye. Uniform pristine and blacker than the night sky, with various medals and badges pinned to each breast.

"I could say the same about you, _sire_." You mockingly sweep down into a curtsey, and Seonghwa scoffs.

"Enough joking around," he says seriously. "Are you ready to go? His Majesty is just finishing his preparations, you must take your seat at the head table before he arrives."

Your blood runs cold, sudden panic sprinting through your body, and you're not sure whether this feeling is worse than the spells or not.

You nod, ignoring the anxieties, trusting Wooyoung's words and making a silent pact with yourself to have a good time.

"Excellent." Seonghwa holds his arm out to you, and with a final smirk leads you towards the door. 

"Your elven prince awaits, _m'lady_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just to note; the language used for the spell is elder speech from the witcher 3: wild hunt. thank you for reading!!


End file.
